Muggle Studies
by theangelsarecoming
Summary: The War is over and some of the surviving students return to Hogwarts. Given a second chance but struggling to find his place in the Wizarding World, Draco does something that nobody would ever have expected him to do – he takes up Muggle Studies - and ends up paired with Hermione Granger. Will they get the closure that they've been searching for? [Post DH AU] [Eighth Year Fic]
1. An Offer of Eighth Year

**Disclaimer: The wonderful wizarding world and the characters (apart from those that are original) belong to J.K. Rowling.**

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 _"_ _Dumbledore…h_ _e'll accept anyone at Hogwarts, s'long as they've got the talent."_ _– Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_

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The months following the Second Wizarding War had been hard on them all. Even the air felt heavy, as if the world could feel the extraordinary losses that had occurred. Muggles and magic folk alike had suffered greatly, and now that Voldemort had been defeated, things were finally starting to recover.

Hermione sat in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, stirring her tea absentmindedly as she skimmed the headlines of the Daily Prophet. Harry had kindly opened the house to the surviving members of the Order, though many had since found other accommodation and the house, once full and bustling, soon became quiet. Her parents were recovering their memories with the help of the healers at St Mungo's, so she had decided to stay. The Weasley family had returned to the Burrow, though both Ron and Ginny were frequent visitors, making full use of the house's numerous bedrooms. Hermione found the silence peaceful, if not a bit lonely, Harry often slept till early noon, leaving her to her own thoughts and musings most of the time. They both, especially, had felt the after-effects of the war. She had, on more than one occasion, had to awaken Harry from his nightmares, she having been woken by her own.

But now, everything seemed to be on the road to recovery. The Daily Prophet, after months of publishing mainly obituaries and articles about loss and the victory of Harry Potter, now covered the restoration of Diagon Alley and advertised the new shops being set up where old ones had been destroyed. Things were returning back to normal, but she was certain that nothing would ever be the same.

Updates regarding the trials of the Death Eaters and Snatchers had a section of its own in the newspaper. Taking a sip of her tea, Hermione opened it to this page and noted with reluctant interest that Lucius Malfoy had been sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss. Narcissa and Draco Malfoy had been exempted from this fate by the Wizengamot, Narcissa had been placed in Azkaban, and Draco put on probation but pardoned as he was underage. Without thinking, she shuddered as her fingers brushed over the faded white scar that his aunt had carved into her arm. The skirmish at Malfoy Manor was one memory that she knew would haunt her forever, not only because of the pain she had endured, but also because she never ceased to wonder why Draco had spared their lives. Hermione was certain that he had recognised Harry, and yet, he hadn't turned them in, and she wanted to know _why_.

A large brown owl tapped sharply on the window, breaking through the mire of her thoughts. She quickly rose from the table to let it in and carefully took the letters tied to its leg. Feeding it an owl treat from the jar that had been stationed on the nearby kitchen counter for that precise reason, Hermione gasped as she noticed the Hogwarts seal on two of the envelopes. She quickly returned to her seat at the table, and, finding the envelope address to _Ms. H Granger, 2_ _nd_ _Bedroom on the 1_ _st_ _Landing, 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, Greater London_ , she tore it open eagerly. She unfolded the familiar heavy parchment, and quickly read its contents.

 _Dear Ms Granger,_

 _Given the unfortunate events that occurred last year, we would like to invite all the students of the Class of 1998 to return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for an eighth year. It was in the wishes of the late Albus Dumbledore that this be the case if school be interrupted by the war. This final year is not compulsory, but rather an option made available to those who wish to complete their education at this school._

 _Students who feel that they have the capability to and wish to sit their N.E.W.T.s without returning for classes may do so at the Ministry of Magic on 17 August._

 _For the students who do return to Hogwarts, the school year will be run as per usual, though some classes may be run together with students from the seventh year. Accommodation for all eighth year students will not be according to Houses, but will instead be in the Eastern Tower._

 _Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment, if you do wish to return to Hogwarts. Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

 _Yours sincerely,_  
 _Minerva McGonagall_  
 _Headmistress_

Hermione bristled with excitement as she reread the letter. This was it, their chance for a final year of normality, this was exactly what they needed. After the hectic year they had had, what better than a year of familiar routine and environment to help them heal? She put down the letter and called up the stairs, eager for Harry to hear the offer.

'Harry! Get down here, there's something you need to read!'

It would be easy enough for her to convince him and Ron to return with her, she thought resolutely. All three of them had already planned to sit for the theoretical section of the Defence Against the Dark Arts N.E.W.T.s in August, the practical portion having already been waived for them by the ministry, but this would be the chance to get the other qualifications they needed to become Aurors. Though she suspected that the Ministry would be willing to waive those requirements as well if they asked, Harry, at least, had seemed determined to earn his way in like anyone else rather than asserting the status that came with his title of Saviour of the World.

Yes, they would be returning to Hogwarts.

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Draco's hand trembled as he turned over the heavy parchment of the Hogwarts letter, considering his options. It seemed too good to be true, a second chance at life at the school he had grown to love over the course of the years. A return to normality, a place where he could pretend not to be bothered by the fate of his parents and the events of the past year.

Malfoy Manor had never felt so cold. The vast rooms and halls abandoned, only the quiet sound of his feet against the marble floors could be heard as he paced. Draco was staying there alone, as both of his parents had been sentenced and he freed, alone with the company of the memories that the walls held. Memories of The Dark Lord marred what had once been a safe place for Draco, not a single room left untouched. Happy memories of childhood and even brief moments of joy in the past year when spending time with Uncle Sev had all been tainted, as if a filter had been placed on them, blending them into the darkness. Now he was left alone to deal with unexplainable but incredibly vivid assaults of what he had seen and been forced to do both in his nightmares and even during the day, leaving him pale and shaky and with the painful feeling that he was about to explode.

It seemed ironic that the bracelet around his left ankle, issued as part of his 'punishment and probation' by the Wizengamot to track his movements and magic, was the only thing that grounded him and made him feel safe in what had been his own home. He had to get out of there.

Draco was infinitely grateful to the Wizengamot. Though they had sentenced his parents, understandably failing to see that the Malfoys had been reluctant participators in the Death Eater circle for some time leading up to the final battle and had merely been trying to survive the war, Draco knew that he owed them his life.

In fact, he owed many people his life.

And now, he had a second chance. An official at the Ministry, who insisted on remaining anonymous in order to avoid the hatred and discrimination that the ex-Death Eaters and their 'sympathisers' were now facing throughout the Wizarding World, had helped Draco by signing him up to take his Potions N.E.W.T. at the Ministry in August, as Uncle Sev had continued to help him to hone his skills throughout the previous year. Furthermore, he had the chance to return to Hogwarts for one final year.

There was, finally, at long last, a glimmer of hope.

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 **A/N: The intense renewal of my enthusiasm for and obsession with Harry Potter could not have come at a worse time. Now, as it approaches my equivalent but much less interesting version of the N.E.W.T.s, I am struck by a plot bunny I found that I could not ignore, no matter how hard I tried. Please send help.**


	2. NEWTs of August

**Disclaimer: Le magnifique monde wizarding et les caractères (sauf ceux qui sont originaux) appartiennent à J.K. Rowling.**

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 _"An invisible barrier separated him from the rest of the world." – Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_

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The rest of the summer passed by in a flurry, and soon it was 17 August.

A slice of banana bread in hand and another in his mouth, Ron followed Harry into the living room. He had stayed over the night before for some last minute cramming with Hermione and Harry, and it had been just like old times as she quizzed them on the theoretical elements of the subject. Notably, however, they were all extremely well prepared for this particular examination, and Hermione strongly believed that they all, even Ron, had a very good chance of obtaining Os in the subject.

That morning, Hermione was the first one ready, of course, skimming over her annotated copy of _Dark Arts: A Comprehensive Guide to Self-Protection_ as she waited for the others. Ron honestly could not understand why she bothered – with the amount of preparation she had done, and given the experiences they had had during the war, she could have easily _written_ the textbook herself.

'Good, you're here,' she said, closing her book and standing. 'Let's go, I want to be early.'

'Aigh wetz gofem,' said Ron, his mouth impossibly full as he crammed the remaining piece of bread into his mouth and dusted the crumbs off his hands on his pants.

'Alright, let's go then,' Harry translated helpfully.

The trio apparated together to an empty Muggle alley along in Whitehall, and made their way to the visitor's entrance. They entered the old red telephone box and keyed in the code – 62442 – and stated their purpose – to sit their Defence Against the Dark Arts N.E.W.T.s – to the friendly sounding female voice on the other side of the line. Pinning their badges to their clothes, they were descended to the Atrium.

Since their little infiltration into the Ministry the previous year, much had changed. Harry was relieved to see a new version of the Fountain of Magical Brethren in the place where the detestable anti-Muggle black stone statue had stood. Like the old fountain, the new one comprised of a number of large golden statues, a witch, a wizard, a goblin, a centaur and a house-elf, in the middle of a circular pool. However, this new fountain had all the figures standing in a circle and regarding each other with expressions of mutual respect. Harry smiled, thinking that Dumbledore would have been pleased, but then noticed, quite uncomfortably, that the wizard statue seemed to resemble him slightly, with round glasses, messy hair, and the hint of a lightning bolt scar on its forehead.

'What level do we have to be on?' asked Harry quickly, turning away from the fountain.

'The Department of Magical Education is on Level 5, with the Department of International Magical Cooperation.' Hermione replied, striding towards the lifts. 'Come on!'

Arriving outside the temporary examination hall, the trio quickly registered with a Ministry Official and then joined Neville and Seamus, who were sitting all of their N.E.W.T.s through the Ministry. Padma, Parvati, Ernie, Terry, and several of the other students who had stayed at Hogwarts during the height of the war were doing the same thing, and soon joined them. Anthony and Dean were also among the small group that had gathered despite not having attended seventh year, and, like them, were planning to return to Hogwarts for the eighth year, but taking the Defence N.E.W.T. in order to lighten their load for the next year. Students from all four Houses, some of whose faces were familiar but had names Harry could not recall, were reunited outside the hall.

It was good to see his classmates laughing and joking together again, Harry thought with a smile. The last time he had seen them was after the battle at Hogwarts, and they had all been, well, more than a little beat up. Still, the survivors of the war had not escaped unscathed – the slight limp that Terry had and the way the Patil twins stood stiffly when people walked between them did not escape his notice.

'Well, look who it is,' Neville said suddenly, eyes locked on a figure across the room.

Harry glanced over to see what he was referring to, and saw a person whose light blonde hair unmistakably identified him as Draco Malfoy, accompanied by a hooded Ministry Official. He blinked with surprise. Had Malfoy been released? He hadn't been following the Death Eater trials, not wanting to be reminded of the war when it could be avoided. He felt Ron tense next to him.

'What on earth is that ferret doing here?' he bit out. 'They're letting him do his N.E.W.T.s?'

Ernie chuckled darkly. 'Well, he's obviously not here to do Defence Against the Dark Arts…perhaps just plain Dark Arts?'

This elicited laughs from most of the group, and Draco turned to look at them, then quickly looked back down when he realised that they had been laughing at him.

'I saw it on the registration list,' Anthony said helpfully. 'He's doing Potions. I think he might actually be planning on coming back to Hogwarts, too.'

'Then give him hell,' Terry snarled, addressing the returning students. 'He was a Death Eater – and he got off with too light a sentence. They all should have been sentenced to the Kiss, the whole lot of them, just like his father.'

Several of the students nodded, but Hermione shook her head. They all turned to look at her, questioning. It was common knowledge that she had suffered greatly at Malfoy Manor, and they thought that she, of all people, would want to see them punished.

'We need to forgive. If we hold resentment in our hearts, it'll only lead to another war,' Hermione replied softly. She looked like she was about to say something else, but was interrupted by the Ministry Official who had registered them.

'Please enter the examination hall.'

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As the papers were collected, Hermione turned back in her seat to look at Ron and Harry, both seated behind her. She raised her eyebrows at them, asking them how they had found the paper with a silent question, and they responded with thumbs up and confident smiles. Good, she thought, that's one N.E.W.T. done.

They exited the hall and said goodbye to their friends, promising that they would all meet up at Hogsmeade sometime during the term, and wishing those who were to sit more examinations that day the best of luck. Malfoy was nowhere to be seen, she noticed as they made their way back down to the Atrium, not that it mattered to her. The trio walked across to the grand fireplaces, and Ron convinced Harry and Hermione to come and visit the Burrow. Ron lead the way, taking a handful of Floo powder and stepping in.

'See you in a second – the Burrow!' He was engulfed in a flash of emerald flames. Hermione followed closely behind, and as she dusted herself off in the Weasley kitchen, Harry stumbled in behind her, crashing into her and knocking her onto the floor.

'Harry!' she spluttered as she picked herself up. 'Honestly, you'd think that it was your first time using Floo.'

'Sorry,' Harry said sheepishly, standing up and straightening his glasses. 'I just can't seem to get the hang of it.'

The Burrow was as warm and cozy as they had remembered, and Hermione was pleased and touched to see that Mrs Weasley had laid out some tea cakes and jam for them on the kitchen table. Ron, of course, had already noticed this, and was bringing the platter over. They followed him into the living room and made themselves comfortable, just as they had done many times before.

'Is your mum home?' asked Harry.

'I don't think so, the clock says that she's gone down to Diagon Alley – but Ginny is – we all know that's what you're really wondering!' Ron laughed as he pointed to the Weasley clock.

It seemed somewhat barer, now that there were only eight hands remaining. Hermione suspected that George had kept the missing hand after it had fallen off – Fred's death had hit him hard, in particular, much harder than he would ever let them see. Hermione shook her head sadly, but tore her eyes away from it as Ginny peeped in from around the doorway and let out an excited squeal.

'Hi Hermione, Harry!' she said as she hurried over and sat next to Harry. 'I thought I heard you guys come in – mum asked if I wanted to come with her to the shops, but I figured I'd wait at home in case you decided to visit. How did you all find the N.E.W.T.?'

'It was better than we expected, actually, thanks for asking!' Hermione replied brightly. 'What subjects are you planning to take for the N.E.W.T.s, Ginny?'

'Same as Ron and Harry, I think, though I'll have to do Defence too, of course. I'm thinking that I'll probably apply to become an Auror as well.'

'That's brilliant!' Hermione beamed. 'You would make an excellent Auror.' Ginny had truly blossomed from the shy young girl she had first met just several years earlier, though it seemed longer.

'How about you, Hermione?' asked Harry curiously. 'Not planning to overload again like you did in third year, are you?'

'No, I don't think so,' she said thoughtfully. 'Though it might be nice to hit the books again. I think I might ask Professor McGonagall if I could take up Muggle Studies again, though, since we've just done our Defence N.E.W.T. so that's out of the way.' Ron made a choked noise, his eyebrows raising.

'I really don't know how you do it,' he said, shaking his head. 'Really!'

'Well, it was an interesting subject, and I really enjoyed it!' she said defensively. Ron shrugged and just shook his head, smiling, and Harry and Ginny laughed.

'Come up to my room, Harry,' said Ginny, a bright smile on her face. 'I want to show you something!' Harry glanced at Ron briefly, as if asking for permission, even though he had been dating Ginny again for four months. With a nod of approval from Ron, the two lovebirds disappeared upstairs.

Ron set up a game of Wizard's Chess, and they sat down on the floor to play. Despite her undeniable wits, Ron always seemed to beat her, and she was determined to triumph this time round. Ron went first, and they sat in comfortable silence as she contemplated her move. They were not dating anymore, they had never really started, in fact, the intense feelings they had felt during the intensity of the war no longer the same after the final battle. They had decided, mutually, that it would be better if they remained as friends.

'Do you really think that Malfoy is coming back?' wondered Ron softly.

'I don't know,' Hermione whispered. 'But everything will be different.'

Ron was silent for a moment, then nodded in agreement.

'Yeah, that's for sure.'

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 **A/N: Thank you so much for the support - your kind reviews, and for those who have followed or favourited this piece! I'll try to update as much as I can, obviously more so when my own 'N.E.W.T.s' are over (towards the end of the year). Also, feel free to contact me if you have any suggestions or anything that you'd like to see in this story, and I'll see if I can work it in!**


	3. Return to Hogwarts

**Disclaimer: Die wunderbare wizarding Welt und die Charaktere (außer jenen Originalen) gehören J.K. Rowling.**

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 _"Hogwarts will always be there to welcome you home." – J.K. Rowling_

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Platform 9¾ was bustling, as it always was on the first day of September, with teary-eyed parents and excited students. As Harry made his way along the platform, trunks piled on a pushcart but the absence of Hedwig's cage ever more obvious, he could feel the buzz of anticipation in the air. A new year, a new chance at life after the war. Hermione walked beside him as they made their way to the storage unit for their belongings, with Ron and Ginny a few paces behind them, trapped in the tight grasp of a teary-eyed Mrs Weasley.

'Now, you two must be on your best behaviour,' they had heard her say numerous times. 'Understood? No tomfoolery, nothing dangerous. Keep out of trouble!'

Ron made a comment about how trouble always seemed to find them, and not the other way around, and was rewarded with a smack to the back of his head.

They said their final goodbyes and boarded the Hogwarts Express, the three of them quickly finding an empty compartment – Ginny had been appointed Head Girl and had other duties to attend to. As they settled in for the journey and the train pulled away from the station, there was a tentative knock on the door and, to their utter surprise, there stood Draco Malfoy. Taking their silence and stunned expressions as permission to enter, Draco pulled open the compartment door.

'Potter, may I speak to you?' he asked quietly. Harry blinked, but made no move.

'Anything you wish to say, Malfoy, can be said in front of my friends.' Draco furrowed his eyebrows and tried again.

'I wish to speak to you _alone_ , Potter, _please_.' Ron snorted, but fell silent as Hermione shot him a glare. It was rare enough to hear Malfoy say please, so she was extremely curious as to what he had to say.

'I'm sure you can understand my reluctance to be alone with you, Malfoy,' Harry replied, exasperatedly. 'Just say what you have to say, already!' Draco shifted uncomfortably, then gave up.

'Very well. Potter, I would like to say thank you, for, you know, saving my life-'

'Twice!' Ron interjected. Hermione shot him another glare, and Harry nudged him sharply with his elbow. Draco looked slightly confused, and even more embarrassed.

'Yeah, twice, actually,' said Harry, 'though we were invisible the second time. And thank you, too, for not giving us away at the Manor – I know you recognised me.'

'I don't know what you mean, Potter.'

'Either way, how about a truce? After all we've been through, it seems silly to hold on to childish rivalries from years past.' Harry held out his hand. 'What do you say?'

As Draco considered the hand, he couldn't help but remember his own offer of friendship to Harry in first year. He had been rejected, humiliated – but that was many years ago. Yes, a truce would be mutually beneficial, he decided, and took Harry's hand.

'Truce.'

With that, he turned and left the compartment, pulling the door closed behind him, leaving the trio still slightly stunned at what had just happened.

'At least now we don't have to worry about him trying to hex us in the hallways.' Harry joked, trying to lighten the mood. Hermione smiled, and Ron nodded in reluctant agreement.

'Yeah sure,' he said, 'but he's still a rotten git.'

They spent the rest of the train ride munching on snacks – Ron nearly choked with laughter when Harry got his own Chocolate Frog Card, twice – and playing a few games of Exploding Snap, the anticipation of going back to Hogwarts keeping their spirits high. Finally, the train pulled into Hogsmeade station.

As they walked towards the carriages, Ron stopped abruptly, causing Harry to bump into him. Beside him, Hermione, too, was halted in her path.

'Merlin,' whispered Ron in a strained voice. 'I can see them.' Harry gave him a puzzled glance, unsure about what his friend was referring to, and why they had stopped.

'They're just as magnificent as you described, Harry,' Hermione said with wonder and sadness evident in her voice. 'The Thestrals – I can see them now too, Ron, and I don't think we're the only ones.' She gestured vaguely in the direction of the other students gathered around.

Surveying the stunned faces of the crowd, the profound effects of the war had never been clearer. Death had truly touched them all.

The ride back to the castle was a quiet one, and the eyes of those who had never seen the Thestrals before that time hardly ever took their eyes off of them. Harry was glad when they reached the Entrance Gates. The Hogwarts castle, restored to its former glory after the final battle, stood tall and grand as ever, and he felt glad to be home.

The Great Hall was vastly different to how they had seen it last, the large room having been prepared for the students' arrival, the tables set up in their usual manner and the four House banners hanging grandly on the walls. The floating candles shone brightly as the students entered, chattering loudly, filling the room with a familiar sense of home. The only indication that there had ever been a battle in this room, and that this had been a place of great significance in the war, was the golden plaque that had been placed over the most prominent stained glass window.

 _In this Great Hall, Voldemort met his end at the hands of Harry Potter.  
Many fought bravely and gave their lives to defeat this dark wizard. Let us never forget._

Harry lowered his eyes, recalling the aftermath of the battle that had been fought there. Voldemort defeated, the survivors had had to bring the fallen to be laid out in the Great Hall. The losses had been great, far greater than Harry was able to count without breaking down. That night, despite the exhaustion brought on from the events of the day, they all had held a vigil, staying up and supporting each other as they had mourned.

Ron laid a hand on Harry's shoulder, breaking him out of his thoughts. He smiled gratefully and the trio made their way over to the Gryffindor table, sitting down next to Dean and Eloise Midgen. Hermione, who had maintained contact with her Eloise after she left in sixth year, was glad to see her, as her father had was still unconvinced that Hogwarts was entirely safe and had only allowed her to return after much pleading. They were the only Gryffindors who had returned for the eighth year – together with five Hufflepuffs, three Ravenclaws, and Draco Malfoy, the only Slytherin.

When all the students were settled, the Sorting Ceremony began. On a stool in the front of the Great Hall sat the Sorting Hat, a little charred from the war, but nonetheless still functional and proud. It sang a short and solemn song this year, emphasising the importance of inter-house unity, and there were forty first years to be sorted, but Harry felt his eyes and mind wander as they stepped up to the stool. Malfoy, he noticed, sat alone and apart from the others in his House at the end of the table. How interesting. Come to think of it, the so-called Slytherin Prince hadn't had many friends at Hogwarts, only lackeys and admirers, if anything, and none of whom would returned to school. Most of the Slytherins had finished their education despite the war, and had taken their N.E.W.T.s already.

Finally, as 'Yanting, Amelie' took her place at the Ravenclaw table, Professor McGonagall stepped up to the lectern and cleared her voice. Immediately, the Great Hall quietened, and she began her speech.

'Welcome all to another year at Hogwarts! Now before we start the feast, I'd like to say a few words. Firstly, there are two new professors to welcome,' the headmistress gestured to the teacher's table. 'Professor Donald Ambert who will be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Professor Simona Hope, who will be teaching Muggle Studies.'

The Great Hall was filled with polite applause, which the headmistress ended after a moment with a raise of her hand before continuing.

'Secondly, for those who are not already aware, we have fourteen students from the Class of 1998 joining us for an eighth year here at Hogwarts. These students will be staying in the Eastern Tower, and some may be in seventh year classes.' She paused again as murmurs filled the Great Hall, then continued.

'This year is the first school year following the Second Wizarding War. If you feel that you need any support or counselling after this difficult time, please feel welcome to approach myself or any staff member you feel comfortable with. The focus of this year will be inter-house unity, and for this reason, the House Cup will not be awarded this year. Finally, before we begin the feast, let us observe a minute of silence for those who did not survive the war. Please use this time to reflect on and remember the fallen.'

Professor McGonagall waved her wand, and a long ribbon unfurled in the air. On it was the names of Hogwarts students and alumni who had died during the war. The hall was silent, all of the students quiet with their eyes downcast.

After some time had passed, the headmistress took her seat. As she did, the feast arrived.

Chatter in the hall slowly increased in volume as the smell of food wafted through the air. A variety of platters had been served this year – roast beef, pork chops, duck confit, joints of lamb, steak of cooked to several different temperatures, fried chicken, boiled potatoes, roasted potatoes, mashed potatoes, chips, spaghetti bolognese, peas, carrots – the list went on and on. The students quickly helped themselves to the food and tucked in.

Hermione closed her eyes as she savoured a bite of her fried chicken. Oh, how she had missed Hogwarts food! She might not approve of the House-Elf slavery, but the food that they made was absolutely delicious. As she opened her eyes and prepared to take a second bite, she felt a firm tap on her shoulder.

'Excuse me, Hermione,' the voice of Professor McGonagall said from behind her. Hermione quickly put down the chicken, wiped her mouth, and turned around. 'Would you please meet me in my office after the feast? I'd like to discuss your N.E.W.T. subjects.'

Hermione nodded eagerly. She had owled the headmistress before their return, requesting to take up Muggle Studies as a subject despite not having taken the O.W.L.s.

'Very good,' she lowered her voice and leaned in closer so that nobody else would hear. 'The password is Sherbet Lemons.' With that, the headmistress straightened up and nodded politely to the other students at the table, then walked off. The trio watched as she made her way to the Slytherin table, and stopped to talk to Draco Malfoy.

'Do you want us to go with you?' Harry asked, wiping some gravy from his mouth with the back of his hand. Ron looked up and nodded in agreement to the question, unable to add anything as his mouth was full of lamb.

'Thanks,' she replied, 'but I'll be alright. You two head up to the Eastern Tower first, and I'll see you both in the morning. Classes start tomorrow, so you could do some revision, if you have time.' Ron snorted, and Harry raised an eyebrow.

'Yer,' Ron said, 'lizdat ewangon apon.' Hermione looked to Harry for a translation, but he shook his head, laughing, just as lost as she was. Ron rolled his eyes and quickly finished his mouthful.

'I said: Yeah, like that's ever going to happen!'

They quickly finished their meals, and dessert, then parted ways. Hermione made her way up the moving, circular staircase to the third level of the Headmistress' Tower. The gargoyle stepped aside as she said the password, and she entered the wonderful room, filled with the instruments and magical trinkets that Hermione loved so much. But, to her surprise, the one other person in the room was not Professor McGonagall, as she had expected, but Draco Malfoy.

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 **A/N: Thank you again so much for the wonderful reviews, favourites and follows! I truly appreciate them – they're really great motivation for me to update this story instead of doing the actual work I really should be doing in preparation for my so-called 'N.E.W.T.s'!**


	4. An Odd Arrangement

**Disclaimer: De prachtige wizarding wereld en de tekens (met uitzondering van die origineel zijn) behoren tot J.K. Rowling.**

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 _"It is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities." – Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_

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Draco was leaning on the headmistress' desk, legs and arms crossed as he regarded her. His lip curled into a smirk as she looked around, puzzled by his presence.

'What are you doing here, Malfoy?' she asked, and he raised an eyebrow in response.

'Well, I could ask you the same thing, Granger,' he retorted. 'I have a legitimate reason for being in this office, Professor McGonagall wished to see me. She'll be here in a minute, so you'd best be off and leave me in peace.'

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows, slightly confused. The headmistress had definitely said that she had wanted to speak to her after the feast; perhaps this was some sort of misunderstanding? Nevertheless, no matter who was right or what truce Malfoy may have made with Harry, she did not want to be alone in the same room with _him_ , so she turned and started towards the stairs. As she did, Professor McGonagall, who was making her way up the moving staircase and into the room, almost collided with her.

'Ah, Hermione! I hope you're not planning on leaving, I do wish to speak with you,' she said, mildly surprised. As she reached the top of the stairs, she was pleased to see the other student in the room as well. 'Oh yes, good, both of you are here. Take a seat, please!'

The headmistress sat on the chair at the other side of the desk that Malfoy had been leaning on, and the two students sat down as well, facing her. Seeing their puzzled looks as to why they were there together, Professor McGonagall hastened to explain.

'I hope you don't mind that I asked to see you two at the same time – as I have matters to discuss with both of you, this was the most efficient way.' Both students nodded, satisfied with her explanation, and she continued.

'Miss Granger, your request to study Muggle Studies has been approved.' Hermione beamed, not surprised. She had expected that to be the outcome, given her near-perfect scores during the past years. Beside her, Malfoy shifted in his chair slightly.

'Mr Malfoy, your request to study Muggle Studies has also been approved.' Hermione's eyebrows shot up towards the ceiling, not being able to believe her ears. Draco Malfoy, the proud _pure-blood ex-Death Eater_ who used to tease her about her background, applied to take up a subject that studied _Muggles_? _Voluntarily_? Why, she thought, this all seemed very strange indeed.

'In order for this to work, she continued, 'you and Miss Granger will have to become study partners for this particular subject.' Both students opened their mouths to protest, but she silenced them with a raise of her hand, addressing them both this time.

'I expect that you two will be able to put aside any animosity you two have had in the past.' She adjusted her glasses and leaned forward, regarding them both seriously before beginning to explain. 'This is the only possible way for the both of you to catch up to the rest of the class, who have already taken the O.W.L. in this subject, and have been working on the N.E.W.T syllabus in sixth year. Miss Granger has the advantage of being familiar with the topics covered, coming from a Muggle family, and Mr Malfoy here will be able to bring the perspective of wizards with no prior experience with such things.'

'But Professor, I don't think –' Hermione started to say, before being cut off again by the headmistress' stern gaze. She looked over exasperatedly at Malfoy, who was being uncharacteristically quiet.

Draco's lips were pressed into a thin line, eyes downcast. He was leaned back in the chair, fingers steeped beneath his chin as if in deep thought. Feeling her eyes on him, he slowly turned to face her, grey eyes hard as he looked at her.

'Surely you don't think that it would be too hard to bear my company for long enough to study with me for one subject?' he said, tone as cold as ice. Hermione blinked twice, then licked her lips and straightened up, quickly turning away from him.

'I suppose that I could tolerate it,' she decided, tone equally frosty, 'seeing as I have little choice in the matter.' Professor McGonagall smiled, and clapped her hands together.

'Good, that's settled then! As you both are taking on nearly the same subjects, the timetables should be compatible. These sessions will not be supervised, but Professor Hope will be monitoring your progress closely and reporting back to me. I'd suggest at least one study session a week – perhaps on Tuesday nights, after dinner?'

Both the students nodded stiffly, deliberately avoiding each other's eyes.

'Good. That is all,' she said, dismissing them. 'The password to the Eastern Tower is _Salve_.'

They both stood and made to exit, Hermione leading the way and Draco following closely behind. The walk to the Eastern Tower was a rather long one, made to seem even longer by the thick glacial silence between them. Their footsteps echoed down the corridor, the only sounds apart from the howling wind outside rattling the windows.

When she noticed that the sound of their footsteps had started to match up, two sounds merging into one, Hermione, bursting to the seams with questions, could not stand the silence any longer. She cleared her throat tentatively, slowing down slightly so that she was walking next to her new Muggle Studies partner.

'We were all quite surprised to see you come back this year,' she said, finally.

'I was pardoned by the Wizengamot,' he replied defensively. 'I have every right to be here, just as much as you do.'

'Yes, I know,' she said exasperatedly. 'I didn't suggest otherwise.' Draco turned to look at her, surprised by the lack of contempt in her voice.

'Oh.'

They walked in silence for a while more, and they reached the large brown door that led to the Eastern Tower. Hermione stopped outside, as did Draco. As he was about to mutter the password, she put her hand on his arm, causing him to jump, startled. Hermione, shocked by the extreme reaction to her touch, quickly withdrew her hand.

'Sorry! I didn't mean to startle you,' she apologised quickly. 'I just had to ask – why didn't you rat us out when you recognised us at the Manor?' Draco regarded her curiously, and shook his head.

'Why do you even care?'

'I don't know, okay?' Hermione said, sighing and rubbing her hand over her face. 'Just tell me – after all that happened, I think you owe me a little bit of closure.'

Draco's reply was so quiet that she almost missed it.

'I didn't want more blood on my hands.'

Hermione looked puzzled for a moment, then pressed on.

'Not even my blood? My,' she paused, 'mud blood?' Draco winced at her choice of words, then replied with a tone of finality.

'I never wanted to be a Death Eater, Granger. Now please, let's get to bed.' He muttered the password, and the door disappeared to reveal a warm and empty common room. It was much like all the other common rooms, with the standard couches, coffee tables and fireplace, but with large windows, not unlike the ones in the West Tower. The walls were decorated with the four House banners, but with little else. There was a staircase on the far end of the room, splitting into two and spiraling upwards, towards the dormitories.

They entered, Draco walking up the stairs immediately while Hermione sat down on one of the sofas, thinking over what he had said. Just before he disappeared from sight, he paused and turned back to face her one more time.

'I'll see you tomorrow.'

With that, he made his way upstairs.

Arriving at the boy's dormitories at the top of the stairs, Draco was relieved to find that the other boys he was sharing the room was had already fallen asleep. He quickly located his own bed, one with a dark green duvet cover, with his trunk placed at the foot of the bed. He quickly changed into his bedclothes and slipped into bed.

And yet, sleep escaped him. He seldom slept well at night; he hadn't gotten a decent night's sleep in years now, and soon found himself pondering the year to come. His truce with Harry would be beneficial, he decided, as would his partnership with Granger. Her company hadn't been too hard to endure, despite the difficult question she had asked him that night, forcing him to relive those memories he had faced during that horrible time of war. Unbeknownst to the others, his aunt had tortured him, too, after they had escaped, convinced that he had lied to them.

Still, the Muggle-born girl hadn't seemed too resentful, which surprised him, considering the atrocities she had had to face in his childhood home. He still shuddered as he thought about her screams.

His thoughts wandered to his father and mother, considering their fate, and then, finally, at long last, he fell into a light, fitful slumber.

* * *

 **A/N: Finally, the main story idea is beginning! Also, congratulations to previouslyjade for being the first to comment on the new professor's names in the previous chapter: Simona Hope is both 'hope for the future' and an anagram for** _ **Homo sapien**_ **! Thanks again for all of your reviews, favourites, and follows! They're so encouraging.**


	5. Muggle Studies

**Disclaimer: Ang kahanga-hangang wizarding mundo at ang mga character (maliaban sa mga orihinal) nabibilang sa J.K. Rowling.**

* * *

 _"Understanding is the first step to acceptance, and only with acceptance can there be recovery." – Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_

* * *

Hermione was waiting for Ron and Harry to get changed and join her in the common room. She had spent the last twenty minutes banging on the door of the boy's dormitory, since she was not allowed in, waking up not only the two boys she was planning to go to breakfast with, but also the rest of the inhabitants. She had finally been ushered down by Anthony Goldstein, a Hufflepuff, who, like her, saw the benefits of early waking, but wanted to spare her from the wrath of all the other eighth year boys. After assuring her that the two boys were awake and in the process of getting dressed, he had left her to wait in the common room, leaving with Susan Bones to go to the Great Hall.

Finally, the two boys entered, hair in a mess and yawning.

'Seriously, you two,' Hermione chided. 'It's only the first day of classes!' Ron gave her the best glare he could while half-asleep, and Harry ruffled his hair absentmindedly.

'Relax, Hermione,' he said, stifling a yawn. 'We still have more than half an hour till classes begin. Besides, me and Ron both have a double study period this morning.'

'Well, I don't! I have double Muggle Studies. Speaking of which, I have plenty to tell you.'

The trio began their walk to the Great Hall, and Hermione filled them in on the details as they did – how Draco had _asked_ to take up the extra subject, which neither of the boys believed at first, and how they had been assigned to be partners, which elicited exclamations of both disbelief and sympathy. She also mentioned that he had told her that he had not wanted to be a Death Eater during the war, which both Harry and Ron raised an eyebrow at skeptically.

'Well, we'll see how he acts this year,' Harry said as they sat down at the Gryffindor table. Ron and Hermione nodded in agreement, and they began to tuck into the small feast that had been set before them.

'Sofaz da – ' Ron began, his mouth full of eggs, then paused when he saw the looks of confusion on his friends' faces. Quickly finishing his mouthful, he swallowed before starting over.

'So does that mean that you won't be able to study with us anymore?' he asked.

'No, of course not,' Hermione assured them, and they looked relieved. 'Though I'll have to spend Tuesday evenings with Malfoy, of course, and I think I might see if we can have a session tonight as well, just to go over the coursework.'

'That's fine,' Harry said, wiping some syrup off of his face. 'Ron, want to fly around the pitch with me tonight? I'll see if Dean and Ginny are free, so we can have a little game.'

The boys made their plans, and Hermione looked around the hall. No sign of her Muggle Studies partner, perhaps he had slept in? Harry seemed to read her mind.

'I haven't seen Malfoy since the feast last night,' he informed her. 'He must have come in after we had gone to bed, and he was up and out before any of the others were awake.'

'My first instinct would have been to say that the bloody ferret must be up to something,' laughed Ron. 'But I seriously doubt that he'd be so obvious with his scheming, so he must just be an early riser, like this girl over here.' He looked pointedly at Hermione, and both Harry and Hermione chuckled.

'Well, I'd best be off!' Hermione said, glancing at her wristwatch. 'Class starts in fifteen minutes.' Harry rolled his eyes.

'Early bird catches the worm and all that, eh?' he said. 'Have fun!' Hermione beamed and left them to finish their breakfast. As she was walking away, she heard Ron ask Harry something in a puzzled voice.

'Wait, what bird?'

* * *

The Muggle Studies classroom was rather near to the Great Hall, and was adjacent to the one that Hermione had been in for the subject in third year, yet was rather different. This classroom had the tables arranged in pairs on either side of the classroom, leaving a corridor in the middle, with a teacher's desk in the front. There were power plugs and a whiteboard, she noted with interest, things that had not been present in the other classroom. While there were not any lights or light switches as far as she could see, the windows let in natural light, and there were no candles.

As Hermione was about to settle into her usual spot at the front, she noticed that she was not alone in the classroom, as she had previously thought. On a table in the far corner of the room, furthest from the door, the unmistakable head of Draco Malfoy was resting in his arms, apparently asleep. Hermione approached tentatively, quietly putting her bag down beside her as she sat next to him.

'Good morning.'

Draco's head snapped up immediately, and he blinked hard a couple of times. Unable to stop herself, she gasped in surprise, shocked at his appearance. Having never been so close to him, she was shocked to see that he had dark rings around his eyes, which were vaguely red, as if he hadn't slept for weeks, or as if he had been crying recently.

'Merlin, Malfoy, you look awful.'

'Thanks,' he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes and looking away. Hermione blushed, frantically trying to smooth over her outburst.

'No, sorry, that's not what I meant!' she said. 'Did you sleep at all last night?' He looked at her, one eyebrow raised.

'I don't see how that's any of your business, Granger.' Hermione sniffed, mildly offended, and looked away. They sat in silence, both preparing for the lesson by setting out parchment and quills on their desks.

After a few minutes, other students joined them, and the room was filled with chatter. It was a small class, with the majority being seventh years, the only other eighth years being Hannah Abbott and Megan Jones, who waved at Hermione as they entered, but sat near to the front.

Precisely at nine o' clock, Professor Hope strode in, a rectangular basket in one hand, and a stack of papers and a wand in the other. A young woman with very short blonde hair that was swept to one side, the way she walked oozed with confidence and commanded the attention of the room, despite her petite stature. The room fell silent as she entered, and she set the basket and papers down on the table. Wand still in hand, she turned to face them.

'Expelliarmus!'

There were startled cries of protest as all the wands in the class flew from their bags and cloaks into the basket that the professor had placed on the table. Well, almost all of the wands – having been constantly vigilant for the entire previous year, Hermione had caught hers in time, and she noticed that Draco had managed to retain his as well. This, however, did not escape the notice of Professor Hope, and she brought the basket to them. Reluctantly, they surrendered the wands.

'Very good,' she said. The eyes of the class followed her as she slowly made her way back to the front of the room, wands held hostage. 'Welcome to N.E.W.T. level Muggle Studies. If you're here to get an easy Pass, you should leave now.' Having reached the desk, she set down the basket and turned to face the class once again.

'There will be no magic used in this class. When you enter the classroom, you all will surrender your wands, placing them into this basket that will reside on my desk. Here, you are all effectively Muggles. Understood?' The class nodded silently, and she continued.

'Now, I understand that last year none of you had a decent Muggle Studies teacher. As I highly doubt that you learnt anything of value last year, I will be covering the entire N.E.W.T. syllabus this year, many of which are simply O.W.L. topics explored at a higher level. The course is divided into theory and practical application – which I will explain at greater length in the future, and have outlined in a handout I will give you at the end of today's class.'

Professor Hope pulled out a large package from under her desk, and unwrapped it as she spoke, handing out the contents to the front row and indicating that they should pass them down towards the back. 'These are notebooks and pens. Each student is to take one notebook and two pens, and these are Muggle inventions that are to be used in place of your quills and parchment for note taking. These are only to be used for this subject, as the other teachers insist on quill and parchment, which is, if you ask me, rather draconian.'

Draco pushed aside his own materials, examining the strange book. It had two hard covers, not unlike the covers of a bound book, but had an interesting metal spiral down one end instead of proper binding. The paper inside had light blue lines on them, but it was the pen that fascinated him the most. Hermione leaned over to demonstrate how they were turned on; with a push on one side, a metal nib popped out of one side with a click. Another push, and the nib disappeared. Even better, the ink was _inside_ the contraption, and it flowed from the nib wonderfully.

'Today, we will start off with some theory on the topic of how Muggles cope without magic, and we will have a practical demonstration in the second half of this double lesson. Alright, let us begin!' With that, Professor Hope took out what looked to Draco to be some sort of very fat pen, and, after removing the cap, began to write on the shiny white wall.

 _ELECTRICITY_

Copying down this strange new word into this notebook, Draco was captivated as the professor began to explain how this Muggle discovery was not unlike magic in the way that it functioned, and in the way that it helped them to function. How fascinating, he thought.

* * *

At half past ten, the class ended.

'Class dismissed! Do collect a handout from my desk on your way out, and don't forget to take your wands, too!' she said. 'Oh, and could I please see the three students without their O.W.L. in this subject at the front?'

Draco and Hermione finished packing away their notebooks and pens, then joined Hannah Abbott at the front of the room as the others filed out of the class. The three of them claimed their wands and waited as Professor Hope put away the equipment she had used during the lesson. Hannah, Hermione remembered, had left Hogwarts after her mother had been killed by Death Eaters in their fifth year. She didn't fail to notice the way that Hannah was eyeing Draco suspiciously.

Having finished putting all of the things away, Professor Hope turned to address them.

'Ah yes, my three special students. Draco, Hermione and Hannah?' she said to them, facing each of them in turn as she confirmed their names. Receiving affirmative nods, she smiled. 'Now, the three of you especially must always ask questions when you're unsure about something. Hannah, as you've been working on the course through distance education, I'm not too worried – and Draco and Hermione, you two will be doing extra study together, is that correct?' They nodded again, glancing at each other.

'That's all very well, then. Check in with me any time if you have questions, alright?' she reiterated, before dismissing them. The three of them exited, Hannah running off with Megan, who had been waiting outside the classroom. Draco turned to Hermione, intending to ask if she wanted to go over the coursework handout with him that evening, but she beat him to it.

'Tonight at seven o' clock, in the library?' she asked, and he agreed. That day's lesson had left him with a sense of wonder like nothing he had ever experienced before, and he could not wait to learn more.

Having explained the basics of electricity and covered how it travelled through small metal tubes called _wire_ , which were made safe to use by being wrapped in an _insulator_ , working in systems of _circuits_ , Professor Hope had shown them portable electricity called _batteries_ , and then gone on to show them various Muggle appliances that were powered by electricity, including a box with a colourful photograph called a _television_ , and an oval-shaped device that produced music, called a _radio._ He would have to ask Hermione, who had seemed rather bored during the lesson, more about them later.

As much as it surprised him to say this, he was actually enjoying Muggle Studies.

* * *

 **A/N: And there we go, the first lesson! Side note: I absolutely had to bring back Hannah Abbott to H** **ogwarts, as I have a good friend named Hannah Abbott in real life! Unfortunately she doesn't know much about Harry Potter at all. Such a pity, right? Anyway, thank you so much for your continued support - you guys are the best!**


	6. Electricity and Amity

**Disclaimer: El maravilloso mundo wizarding y los carácteres (aparte de aquellos que son originales) pertenecen a J.K. Rowling.**

* * *

 _"The consequences of our actions are always so complicated, so diverse, that predicting the future is a very difficult business indeed." – Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_

* * *

The rest of the school day passed rather quickly, Hermione slipping easily back into the rhythm of life at Hogwarts. This was what she enjoyed, the timetables and the books, the learning and the notes. It was vastly different to the lack of rigid routine they had had while on their hunt for Horcruxes, however, and while Hermione enjoyed the scheduled day, both Harry and Ron, despite only doing five N.E.W.T. classes in total as compared to Hermione's ten, complained throughout dinner. Both had found it difficult to concentrate during Potions and Herbology, their only classes that day. The situation hadn't been helped much by the fact that they had had rather large servings during lunch, leaving them in a food-induced dreamlike state during both classes.

When they finished all had finished their dinner, the boys went off to the Quidditch pitch with Ginny and Dean, and Hermione went off to meet Malfoy for their first study session. It being early still, she had considered walking with them to the pitch and watching them play for a while, but had decided against it in favour of being able to be earlier than Malfoy, which, she thought, would give her the upper hand.

When she arrived at the spot in the corner of the library that they had agreed upon, however, she was surprised again to see that she was not the first one there, even though she was still more than half an hour early.

Being beaten to class was one thing, but being beaten to a study session was another thing entirely. Hermione frowned in frustration.

Draco was sitting there, reading a copy of _Introduction to the Muggle World: World War II_ , totally absorbed in the book. Hermione had never seen that particular title before, and was surprised that he was doing extra reading. He's not second in our year level for no reason, she supposed, so he must actually study quite hard on his own accord. It was strange, though, she had never really considered that he might have a work ethic. She had never really considered that he have any traits other than that of a bully and a coward, actually, until sixth year.

She slipped into the booth, sitting across from him. He did not acknowledge her presence, merely turning a page and continuing to read, and they sat in silence while she arranged her things. When she was done, she fiddled her fingers and waited for him to look up, but he did no such thing.

'Can I ask you something?' said Hermione, finally breaking the palpable silence. Draco lowered his book reluctantly and raised an eyebrow.

'Well, you just did.' Hermione rolled her eyes, ignoring the snide comment.

'Why ever did you ask to take up Muggle Studies this year?' she wondered curiously. 'No offence, but you've never really liked Muggles, never mind shown any bit of interest in their ways of life. What changed?' Draco regarded her for a moment, before marking his page with a slip of parchment and closing his book, giving her his full attention.

'Have you heard about the rising discrimination against those on the wrong side during the war?' Hermione nodded silently, wondering how this related to anything. The issues of discrimination had been widely covered in The Daily Prophet lately; wizards and witches who had been accused of being Death Eaters during the war, even if the accusations were false or if they had been pardoned, were finding it increasingly hard to get jobs or even walk into a public place without being treated with contempt. This had even been encouraged by one Rita Skeeter as a trendy method of retaliation against those on Voldemort's side, much to Hermione's disgust.

'Well, I figured that if being accepted in the wizarding world might prove impossible, then I'd better have a good back-up plan.' Draco continued, shrugging impassively, his face a mask. Hermione's eyebrows shot up towards the ceiling, not believing her ears.

'Really?!' she exclaimed loudly in absolute surprise. 'You're thinking about living as a Muggle?' She was immediately hushed by both the ex-Death Eater and Madam Pince, who had been glaring at the two students throughout most of their whispered conversation.

'Well, it's not as if I have many options anymore!' he hissed defensively. 'I lost everything in the war – the family fortune, which was earned honestly, I'll have you know, was taken by the Ministry, and the Malfoy name went from being revered to something that the cat dragged in, a taboo even! I – '

His voice cracked and he broke off, staring resolutely in the opposite direction, and she sat silently, stunned by his emotional outburst. He was usually so calm, so careful, but now his mask had slipped and the vulnerability underneath could be seen plainly. Hermione pretended not to notice a tear slowly tracking down the side of his face, and she pretended not to notice as he brushed it away roughly and took a deep breath.

'We'd better begin studying,' she said finally, changing the topic after a pregnant pause. 'Shall we start by going over the coursework?' Draco straightened, steeling himself, and turned back towards her, mask securely back in its place.

'Yes, let's do that.'

They both took out the handout which Professor Hope had given to them earlier, and began to read it over. As she had said in class, the course was split into theory and practical application. Theory included an assortment of topics, all coming back to the overarching investigation of how Muggles cope without magic, split into the categories of electricity, communication, transportation, entertainment, and daily life. Practical elements would be taught with each theory section, and practical assessments would consist of putting what had been learnt in class to the test, either in class tasks or in real Muggle situations on class excursions.

'Rocket ships and submarines are covered under the topic of transportation,' noted Hermione aloud, giggling slightly. 'How amusing!' Draco shot her a confused look, the terms clearly entirely foreign to him. She bit her lip and tried to explain.

'Well,' she said hesitantly, 'it's funny because neither are really used very often by normal Muggles at all. Rockets bring people into space, and submarines are for underwater travel.' However, Draco was clearly becoming even more confused, so she hurriedly changed her approach. 'But never mind, you'll learn more about that when we get there. Let's cover electricity tonight?' Draco sighed, feeling a mixture of relief that they were returning to vaguely familiar territory and frustration at his lack of knowledge.

'Alright.' Hermione leaned over to compare Draco's notes, which were rather thorough, to her own. Finding that he had not fully grasped the concept of the different ways in which a circuit could be arranged, she explained it to him to the best of her ability, and was pleased to find that he caught on very quickly.

Soon relatively relaxed and with a sense of harmony between them, the two students decided to collaborate, and began to compile notes on the first topic. Draco took on the role of a scribe, writing everything down in his neat, slanting cursive, with Hermione adding interesting and relevant facts as they progressed. Draco was far more tolerable than Hermione had anticipated, actually, and she found herself slowly but surely becoming comfortable in his presence and enjoying his company over the course of the night.

Time flew by as they worked, and by the time the library closed and they were told by a fairly annoyed Madam Pince that they were soon going to be out past curfew, they had finished their notes on the topic. By the end of the session, they were no longer sitting up frigidly and regarding each other with suspicion. Draco had even smiled at one of her puns about how the lack of understanding about electricity in the wizarding world was shocking, and he replied by saying that he could not understand watt had prompted her to make such a terrible joke. It was the first time she had ever seen him smile, Hermione observed. Draco had a nice smile.

'You're not bad at Muggle Studies,' Hermione assured him as they were packing up. 'For a pure-blood, you grasp the concepts very quickly.' Draco paused, unsure as to how he should respond to the compliment.

'Well,' he said slowly, slipping the last book off of the table and into his bag and meeting her eyes. 'You're actually a really great teacher. Really, thank you.' Hermione blushed and smiled, looking away shyly.

The walk back to the Eastern Tower was a quiet one, but unlike before, they walked by each other's side. When they reached the split stairs to the dormitories, they said goodnight and parted ways, and there was an undeniable sense of understanding and perhaps even hint of amity between them.

Something had changed between the two of them, thought Hermione as she got ready for bed that night. They may not be friends yet, but something had definitely changed.

* * *

 **A/N: How exciting, Draco and Hermione are finally getting along! Next week will be a rather hectic one for me (arghhh) but I'll try to update, regardless. Thank you again for your kind reviews, follows and favourites, they're so encouraging and I really appreciate the support! I can't believe that I've written more than 10K words for this, it's the most I've ever written for one plot!**


	7. Weekend Encounters

**Disclaimer: An domhan wizarding iontach agus na carachtair (seachas iad siúd atá bunaidh) is leis J.K. Rowling.**

* * *

 _"We must try not to sink beneath our anguish, but battle on." – Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_

* * *

The rest of the week passed rather quickly, and before they knew it, the weekend had arrived. Breakfast was always a rather grand affair at Hogwarts on the first weekend. A selection wider than the usual had appeared before them this morning, and this year they were treated to international breakfast delights; including a dish of coconut rice with peanuts and salty fish which had been labelled _Nasi Lemak_ , and a colourful sticky sort of cake labelled _Nonya Kueh_ , which Ron in particular had enjoyed, and a strange pale green jam that was labelled _Kaya_ and was absolutely delicious.

'Ai wiz aii ngedook ik ar huz erf,' he had said wistfully, as he stuffed his face.

'You wish you could cook like a House-Elf?' Harry made a wild guess, and Ron nodded, still chewing gleefully.

'But Ron,' Hermione laughed, 'you can't cook at all!'

At that moment, the post arrived. A flurry of owls rushed into the Great Hall, accompanied by delighted squeals of anticipation from the eager students seated below, bearing letters and packages for them. A large brown school owl swooped down to their table and delivered their items. This had been the job of Hedwig in the past, and Hermione did not fail to notice Harry's melancholic expression as the brown owl looked expectantly at the trio, waiting to be rewarded.

Shaking herself from her thoughts, Hermione reached out and untied the bundle from the owl's leg. Ron had gotten a letter from his mum, Harry a copy of the latest Quidditch Weekly, and Hermione a copy of The Daily Prophet. She fed the owl a bit of her toast as she scanned the headlines, then turned, out of habit, to the section set aside for war trial updates. Her eyes flickered over the main piece of news, and she put her toast down abruptly.

 _EXECUTION OF LUCIUS MALFOY SET FOR_

 _10 SEPTEMBER 1998_

The headline was followed by a rather scathing article written by the one and only Rita Skeeter, detailing the involvement of Narcissa Malfoy during the First and Second Wizarding Wars. Hermione silently shook Harry's shoulder to get his attention, which was actually rather difficult to do as he had begun reading and was engrossed in his magazine, and angled the paper towards him for him to read. She watched as his brow furrowed and he turned to look at her.

'That's this coming Thursday, isn't it?' he asked. She nodded in confirmation, and he licked is lips, looking around the Great Hall. Draco Malfoy was nowhere to be seen.

'Well, Lucius was a terrible man,' he said tentatively, 'and I'm glad he's receiving the kiss for what he's done.' Hermione nodded, and passed the paper to Ron before she answered.

'Right, I agree,' she said, 'but don't you think they ought to have set the date when term isn't on, so Draco can attend and say his farewell?' Harry thought about this for a while, then merely shrugged.

'The Wizengamot doesn't really take that type of stuff into consideration, I think,' said Ron. 'They'd be pretty busy, with the number of Death Eaters that they have to deal with.'

'Yeah, I suppose,' replied Hermione reluctantly.

'And they'll probably let Draco miss a day of classes for something like that,' Harry added with a tone that indicated the end of their discussion on that matter. Hermione nodded and finished her tea, and the three of them stood up and started their way back to the Eastern Tower.

* * *

As it had been a short school week, and as it was the first weekend of term, the teachers had been merciful and had not assigned as much homework as Hermione thought would be appropriate for N.E.W.T. subjects. Nevertheless, the lack of assignments would prove to be something that worked in her favour, she thought, for she dreaded what she was planning to do that dreary Saturday afternoon, and knew that it would take her a great amount of time and concentration.

She would be writing a letter to her parents.

Due to complications with her memory spell, which she knew she could not have controlled, but felt guilty for nonetheless, lifting the memory spell on her parents had proved harder than she had originally anticipated. Though she was confident of their recovery in the experienced hands of the Healers at St Mungo's, she was anxious about what would happen when they fully remembered and understood what had happened. Would they ever truly forgive her?

Sitting at the desk by her table in the dormitory, the room blessedly empty, she began several letters, then crumpled them up and tossed them into the bin. She absentmindedly tapped her pen, one of her Muggle pens, of course, on the hard wood, chewing her lip as she tried to figure out what to write. Nothing quite sounded right, but she persevered.

 _Dear Mum and Dad,_

 _This week has been rather hectic for me, but I've settled back in at Hogwarts quite well. It really is nice coming back to my second home after all that's happened during the war._

 _As I told you when I visited last, I've completed one of my exams before returning to school and have taken up Muggle Studies again. I told you about this before when I did the subject in third year, but I'm not sure if you can remember that. I liked the subject as it is fascinating, learning about what to the majority of the world is the usual way of life from the wizarding world's point of view, which is why I thought it would be a fun subject to take up again this year._

 _My partner in the subject is Draco Malfoy. I've told you about him before, too, and if you do remember him then it wouldn't be fondly. He's got no clue about anything to do with normal non-magical folk. He's a really interesting character, he's changed after the war. His family played a rather big role on the other side, and we were captured and brought to his house – well, manor, really – once. It wasn't very pleasant, to say the least._

 _I wish I could have told you more during the war. I'm really sorry for what I had to do to you both, but I do not regret it. It was the only way to keep you out of danger._

 _I'll write again soon, and will come to visit you as soon as I can. Please, try to remember that I love you._

 _Lots of love,  
Your daughter._

Hermione leaned back and licked her lips as she appraised the letter. It was shorter than she had planned, but her hands were trembling with the raw emotion and sheer amount of effort that it had taken. She carefully folded it and put it in an envelope, writing their names on it and putting it aside to be owled to Mrs Weasely, who had kindly agreed to help her to deliver it to the Healers directly. Her parents had not reacted well to owl post in the past, and Hermione did not want to agitate them more than necessary.

Tears threatening to spill from her eyes, she stood abruptly, the chair dragging loudly across the floor. She grabbed her weathered copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ – no matter how hard she had tried, it had been impossible to keep the book in pristine condition when battling evil and the elements – and hurried down to the common room for some much-needed company.

As she had expected, Harry and Ron were there, sitting on the floor and playing a game of Wizard's Chess. They greeted her as she sat on the sofa next to them and tucked her feet under her, and she gave them a silent nod, opening her book and trying to read as her eyes glazed over, lost in her thoughts. The boys pretended not to notice her red-rimmed eyes and continued their game, glancing worriedly at her from time to time.

She hated thinking about her parents, about what she had done to them.

Pretending to read worked for some time, but still Hermione felt upset. Feeling overwhelmed by her emotions, she knew that she had to get out. Perhaps a walk around the grounds would soothe the storm that raged inside of her. With a sigh, she shut her book and placed it beside her, getting up. After assuring the boys that she was fine and just needed a moment to herself, and thank you but no, she did not want to be accompanied on her walk, she exited the common room and set off for the lake.

The sky was overcast, but the weather was pleasant. Though the location of Hogwarts meant there was always a cold breeze, autumn had only just arrived, and it was still warm enough outside to wander around without a thick cloak, though only barely.

The grounds were spectacular as they always were, the trees beginning to turn shades of red and orange. She closed her eyes and breathed in the crisp air and its fresh scent deeply, allowing the gentle wind to caress her face as she turned it upwards towards the endless sky. The grass was a soft carpet beneath her feet, and as she strolled the rolling hills, she felt serene.

After she had been out wandering the grounds for quite a while, she found her feet leading her to Dumbledore's grave. She had not been there since after the final battle, and felt that it might be a good place to sit and think, and perhaps confide in the headmaster's spirit. But as she approached the site of the grave, she realised with a start that someone had already beaten her there.

Draco Malfoy was seated next to the the wise headmaster's grand white tomb, his head bent. He did not see her, for he was facing the opposite direction. He sat in silence, unmoving. From where she was, she could hear murmurs of speech as he talked in the direction of the great headmaster's resting place.

Hermione paused as she watched him from afar, not wanting to alert him to her presence. She had never thought that Draco, of all people, would come to visit the grave. It was an odd sight, seeing him sitting there. Given what she had heard from Harry about the night that the great wizard had died, she never would have thought that Draco might find solace at the tomb.

Feeling as if she were trespassing on something immensely private, she turned, and slowly walked away.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry for the delay in the update, it was a terribly busy week! N.E.W.T.s are coming up soon, we have less than 80 days to t** **he exams, which is absolutely terrifying. In other news, it's Singapore's 50th National Day today (9th August), which is why I couldn't help but sneak in references to some lovely local food at the start. If you get the chance, you should try some of those dishes, Singapore is known for its food! Yay Singapore! Anyway, thank you for your continued support through your reviews, favourites, and follows. I really do appreciate it!**


	8. A Lesson in Communication

**Disclaimer:** **Дивовижний світ чарівників і персонажі (крім тих, які є оригінальними) належать J.K. Роулінг.**

* * *

 _"I know how to use a fellytone now..." – Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_

* * *

The weekend passed quickly, and when Monday came, Hermione was glad to have the classes to concentrate on again. She had sent the letter off to Mrs Weasley on Saturday evening, and had received word the next afternoon that her parents had received it, and were making progress in the recovering of their memories. The news, while positive, had barely cheered her up. She had, all weekend, been stuck in a strange sort of melancholic mood. Ron and Harry had been understanding, of course, sticking by her despite her gloom but not pestering her.

Classes never failed to cheer her up, however, and by the time morning classes were over and it was time for lunch, Hermione was in a significantly better mood, very nearly skipping towards the Great Hall.

'Creating your very own charm – it's such a fascinating process!' She beamed from ear to ear as she enthused to the two boys, who clearly did not share her excitement. 'And just imagine, you could make a charm for almost anything you wanted if you tried hard enough!'

'Really? I would never have guessed,' mumbled Ron to Harry. 'I mean, it's not as if we just sat through an hour and a half of class of Professor Flitwick giving us a comprehensive lecture on the exact same thing…'

'I heard that!' Hermione said, laughing. 'But I'm going to pretend that I didn't.'

Lunch served that day was a variety of dishes involving pasta, ranging from macaroni in chicken soup to the classic tagliatelle with beef ragu. Hermione helped herself to a heaped portion of lasagna, one of her absolute favourite dishes, and tucked in eagerly. The conversation quickly turned from class content to some amusing thing Luna had said to Ginny the other day about something or other. Hermione ate quickly, not paying too much attention to what the others were discussing, wanting to be early to her next class – Muggle Studies.

Class with Malfoy was proving to be an interesting affair. While she had been in the same class as him before, he had always been sitting with the other Slytherins so she had never paid him too much attention while the classes were going on. Now, however, she had observed that he usually sat alone and apart from the other students, even in the smaller classes such as Arithmancy and Ancient Runes.

Another thing that she had noticed, not that she had been intentionally watching him, of course, was that he was always early for class, and seldom in the Great Hall for meals. I bet he's already in class, she thought, casting a brief glance over to the Slytherin table.

Sure enough, the familiar icy blonde head was resting on his usual desk when she strode into the classroom, still nearly half an hour early. She placed her wand in the basket alongside Draco's, and walked over to sit beside him, placing her bag under the table with a light thump. The sound caused him to jerk upright abruptly, eyes wild and body taking on a defensive posture.

'Woah,' she spluttered, holding her hands up, startled by the sudden movement. 'It's just me, relax.' He regarded her suspiciously for a moment more, then did as she had suggested. With a sigh, he blinked hard and ran his hand through his hair wearily.

'Sorry, habit,' muttered Draco, 'though you really ought not to sneak up on people like that.' Hermione raised an eyebrow.

'I didn't sneak up on you on purpose, you were asleep!' she said. 'Why weren't you at lunch, anyway? I've noticed that you haven't been at meals much this term.'

'What, have you been watching me?' he asked. Draco's mouth had curled into a sneer, though the effect was rather dampened by the tentative curiousity that was clear in his eyes.

'No, I haven't!' she said, flustered as his question caught her off guard. 'Regardless, you really shouldn't be skipping meals. Do you use meal breaks as nap time or something?' He furrowed his eyebrows, confused at her concern.

'What's it to you what I do with my time?'

'Ah, forget it!' Hermione snapped, frustrated. 'I was just asking! There's no need to be so infuriating.'

'But I didn't do anything!' Draco said, laughing lightly at her frustration, which only seemed to infuriate her further. She pursed her lips and crossed her arms, turning away from him slightly. Why did he always deflect her attempts to show concern? Couldn't he see that she was just trying to be a friend?

They sat in silence for a while, Hermione quietly seething. Draco took out his notebook and pens, setting them on the table and flipping through his notes absentmindedly. When he had finished this, he looked around the room, still silent, fingers tapping the table, waiting for her to relent. Finally, after several minutes, he broke the silence.

'We're starting the topic of Communication today, aren't we?'

'Yeah,' Hermione replied, her tone still slightly bitter. ' _Some_ people will definitely benefit from the lesson, if you ask me.'

'Don't be like that, I didn't mean to offend you!' Draco groaned, then added after a moment of hesitation, 'I'm just not used to people showing concern about me like that.' At this admission, Hermione turned to him in mild surprise.

'What, really?' she asked. 'What about Crabbe and Goyle? Parkinson? Nott?' Draco shook his head.

'Never,' he said, voice matter-of-fact and without any trace of bitterness. 'It's just not the Slytherin way – we cared for each other, but not like that. If they were your friends, you ignored their moments of weakness or anything else you noticed and let them keep their pride. And if they weren't, you teased the hell out of them.'

'But that's so inhumane!' Hermione exclaimed.

'That which does not kill you, makes you stronger,' replied Draco. 'You got used to it with time.'

By this time some of their classmates had begun to trickle into the classroom, taking their usual seats. Chatter filled the room, and as it did, Draco and Hermione's conversation turned to lighter topics, primarily a discussion of the material they had covered in Arithmancy that morning.

Precisely at two o' clock, Professor Hope strode in. The class hushed as she entered, watching her as she walked directly to the basket which had been placed on the desk and tilted it towards her, peering in.

'That doesn't seem to be all,' she said. 'Any more wands?'

A few students rose and walked to the front of the class to surrender their wands, evidently having forgotten to do so upon their entry. Satisfied, the young professor smiled and walked to the shiny white wall, which she had previously referred to as a _whiteboard_.

 _COMMUNICATION_

'Good afternoon,' she said, nodding at them. 'Today we will begin the topic of Communication in the Muggle World. As you know, us wizards communicate primarily through Owl Post and Floo. Similarly, Muggles make use of a non-magical version of a postal system, as well as a device called the _telephone_.'

She wrote these two methods on the board, and the students copied them into their notebooks. Draco double checked his spelling of _telphone_ , then quickly corrected it to _telephone_. Glancing over at Hermione's notes, he observed that she had shortened the device's name to _phone_ , and noted this down accordingly in his own notebook. He opted not to copy down the little drawings she had doodled along the margin, though.

'Today and in our next lesson we will be covering the theory elements of these two primary methods of Muggle communication, and during our lesson on Thursday, we shall cover the practical elements. Is that understood?' She paused as the students nodded, and then continued her lecture.

'The main difference between the wizard's postage system and the Muggle system is the usage of _stamps_ , which is a form of pre-payment as the Muggles usually do not communicate directly with their message carrier. I will cover this in more depth later in the lesson, however – first we shall cover the history of this particular system. While the postal system was only made available to the public in the seventeenth century, the first known postal system was actually started by a Squib named Augustus of the Roman Empire in the first century…'

Professor Hope proceeded with the lecture, writing the key and new words on the whiteboard as she did. During the lessons she covered the basics and brief history of both methods of communication, which was quite a feat in a mere hour and a half, if you asked her. She could see some of her students looking vexed and others looking bored of even dropping off to sleep, which she quickly rectified by asking for questions or walking up to the offending students' desk and rapping on them sharply.

As she reached the end of her lecture, she brought the lesson to her grand finale, pulling out her very own mobile phone, a bright orange Nokia 5110 she had bought earlier that year.

'This is a _mobile phone_ , which is used in the same way as a _telephone_ but operates with _batteries_ and therefore can be moved away from power sources to be used. This type of phone was introduced in 1973, though the idea came from a model introduced in 1946, which operated as a _car radio telephone_. _Cars_ will be covered soon under the topic of _Transportation_.'

The clock on her desk chimed, signaling that it was time to end the class. She quickly rounded up her conclusion and dismissed them, but not before assigning them homework – to read and annotate the chapter of Communication in their textbooks.

As the students filed out, collecting their wands as they did, she was happy to hear snatches of conversation as they discussed the material that she had just covered. In particular, the two students who were seated in the back of the classroom, the pale blonde male, Draco Malfoy, and the brunette female, Hermione Granger, that is, if she had remembered their names correctly – agree to a study session the following night. How delightful to have students intent on actually learning!

The students now gone, she wiped the whiteboard and her brow, exhausted from the lesson she had taught. Taking a drink of water from her bottle, she smiled to herself. A successful lesson, she was glad to say.

* * *

 **A/N: Again, sorry for the delay in updates – I'm probably not going to able to post quite as often as I want to due to the approaching N.E.W.T.s! Writing is a really great way to procrastinate/reward myself, though I keep ending up doing too much vaguely-related research instead of actually writing! (whoops) Thanks so much for your reviews, favourites and follows, they really do motivate me!**


	9. After the War

**Disclaimer:** **Di dunia ahli sihir yang indah dan watak-watak (selain daripada orang-orang yang asal) milik J.K. Rowling.**

* * *

 _"I say there are spots that don't come off, spots that never come off, d'you know what I mean?" – Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_

* * *

Hermione hurried down the corridor towards the library, a pale envelope clutched in her left hand. An owl had tapped on the window of her Arithmancy class, the last class of the day for her, to deliver it to her personally. It was dinner now, and most of the students were headed in the opposite direction towards the Great Hall for their meal. Ron and Harry would wonder where she was, as they usually ate together, but Hermione wanted to be alone when she read the letter. She had recognised the type of envelope used from her previous visits to St Mungo's, and a glance at the writing on the front confirmed her suspicions – it was a letter from her mother.

In the time since she had admitted them for healing, Hermione had written to her parents many times, but had come not to expect a reply. Majority of the time they failed to remember their only daughter, and, therefore, did not usually remember to reply to her. This was a rare occurrence, and Hermione expected that it would be an emotional one as well. Taking a seat on a sofa at the back of the library, Hermione carefully opened the letter and began to read.

 _Darling Hermione,_

 _It's so nice to hear from you! I'm very glad that you have settled back into school well – I seem to remember that the building was damaged during the war. Have the restorations been well done?_

 _You are correct, I don't remember that you previously did Muggle Studies as a subject at Hogwarts, but it sounds interesting. However, I do remember you telling me about Draco Malfoy! Was he not that mindless bully that infuriated you so much when you were younger? It makes me happy to hear that he has changed during the war, and that you two are getting along better now._

 _Hermione – though I still cannot remember so much of your childhood, your father and I are both making progress. I can recall your first day at kindergarten quite vividly now – you were dressed in a yellow sundress and could not stop crying when I left you, but when I returned, you had the biggest smile on your face. You told me, then, for the first time, that you loved school, a phrase I know I have heard many times from you in the following years. I have faith that I will recall more soon, and am holding these dear memories close to me in the meantime._

 _It is pleasant here, much better than any normal hospital, and the 'Healers' are very nice to us both. I, too, wish you could have told us more during the war, but I understand why you had to do what you did, and I forgive you. Your father sends his regards, and we eagerly await your next visit._

 _Love from your mother,  
Monica Wilkins_

Hermione winced slightly as she reached the end of the letter – it was obvious from the name that her mother had used to sign off that the memory spell had not been fully lifted yet, but this was a definite improvement from the last time she had seen her parents. She felt a little better now, her confidence in her parents' recovery boosted, and wiped the tears that had fallen from her cheeks. She cast her eyes down to read the letter again, but as she did so, she felt a light tap on her shoulder. Turning around, she was faced with the figure of Draco Malfoy looming over, a vaguely concerned look on his face.

'I noticed that you were crying – are you alright?' he asked, shifting awkwardly.

Hermione nodded and looked away, brushing away any remaining wetness from her face, slightly embarrassed that he, of all people, had caught her crying.

'Skipping dinner again? Yeah, I'll be okay,' she replied. 'I just got a letter from my mother, that's all.' Draco looked at her quizzically, moving to sit next to her and tentatively putting a hand on her shoulder. Hermione looked up at the gesture, surprised but grateful. She continued her explanation.

'During the war I had to put a memory spell on my parents and send them away – to keep them safe from the Death Eaters.' Draco but his lip and glanced away at that, but Hermione did not take any notice, and went on. 'After the war, I went to Australia to find them and lift the spell, but there were complications and it didn't work fully. They've been at St Mungo's, and most of the time they can't quite remember who I am.'

'That's tough.' Draco said, his voice warmer than Hermione had ever remembered it to be. She smiled sadly, but shrugged.

'Yeah, but at least they survived the war,' she said. 'I can't imagine losing them entirely.'

At that, Draco stiffened beside her and he stood up abruptly. His face, far from being the warm one it had been just moments before, was hidden behind his icy mask. Hermione blinked, startled at the sudden change.

'I've got to go,' he said roughly before turning and walking away quickly, leaving her there, still seated, stunned, letter still her hand. Folding it up carefully and putting it in her robe, Hermione stood, wondering what could have caused the abrupt change in the Slytherin's demeanor.

Oh, _of course_.

She wished she could bury herself in a hole. How insensitive she had been! The very next day – the tenth of September, the execution of Lucius Malfoy – Draco would be losing his own father. She got up quickly, following his path out of the library, but the icy blonde had escaped her, and was nowhere in sight.

Sighing, she considered going back to the Eastern Tower to apologise, then resigned to do so the next day as she doubted that he would be waiting around in the common area for her. Instead, she walked in the direction of the kitchens, resolving to grab a quick bite before joining her friends on the Quidditch pitch to watch their usual Wednesday night practice.

* * *

It was past midnight, but Harry lay awake in bed, sleep evading him once again. His nightmares had become slightly less frequent since the war had ended, but they still affected him more than he was willing to admit. The dormitory was dark, all of the other boys having already gone to bed. Even Ron, who usually stayed up and chatted with Harry until the early hours of the morning to keep him company, had managed to fall into a deep slumber, his occasional snores loud in the otherwise silent room.

There was no use trying to sleep, Harry thought, since his mind was still wide awake. Sitting up and sipping out from under the covers, he took his wand and cast a weak Lumos, the faint glow illuminating the room and pushing away the darkness. As he reached for the most recent copy of Quidditch Weekly, he heard a whimper from across the room. He paused, listening closely for the sound. Silence, then another whimper.

It was not news to him that he was not the only one who had night terrors, many of his dormitory mates had revealed this since their return, but this did not stop him from being curious as to who it was that particular night – only so that he could look out for them the next morning, of course. Silently, he swung his legs off of the bed and padded quietly across the room in his socks, following the sounds, which were becoming more frequent now. When he found the source, however, he could not believe his eyes.

Buried under a duvet of a characteristic dark green, Draco Malfoy tossed and turned.

It made sense that Malfoy had nightmares too, Harry supposed, he had surely suffered during the war, too. Having Voldemort and all of the Death Eaters congregated in your home surely could not have been pleasant. Still, Harry found the sight hard to comprehend – Malfoy had seemed so distant, so unaffected when he had returned. Had that all been an act? It had been a well-executed one, that's for sure. The Slytherin Prince was not as strong and without feeling as he made out to be, then.

Standing at the foot of the bed, wand still illuminated dimly, Harry did not know what to do other than observe. The pale blonde's eyebrows were furrowed deeply and he was curled in on himself, tremors jerking through his body at irregular intervals. Harry found that he had the strange urge to lean over and give the boy some form of comfort, but restrained himself, remembering that they had only been sworn enemies until recently, and could hardly be considered acquaintances, and far less so friends.

Feeling helpless, Harry returned to his bed and ended the Lumos charm on his wand, climbing back into bed. As he lay down and pulled his own red duvet up to his chin, the whimpers continuing through the night. Soon enough, after pondering over his most recent discovery, Harry fell into a light sleep, resolved to keep an eye out for Draco Malfoy.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry again for the delay in the update – alas, N.E.W.T.s are fast approaching for me, it's been so hectic. Thanks again for all of your reviews, favourites, and follows! They're so encouraging, and mean a lot to me!**


	10. Execution of Lucius

**Disclaimer: Il mondo meraviglioso dei maghi e i personaggi (ad eccezione di quelli originali) appartengono a J.K. Rowling.**

* * *

 _"Indifference and neglect often do more damage than outright dislike." – Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_

* * *

The first hues of orange sunrise had just begun to gleam in from behind the horizon when Draco awoke from his fitful slumber. None of the other boys were awake yet at this time – they never were – and Draco sighed lightly as he basked in the blissful silence. This was a moment he had every morning – the moment before the realities of life came crashing back down on him, ever threatening to crush his spirit.

Then the fleeting peace was gone, too soon. Draco swung himself out of bed and wandered over to the window, watching the sun crawl its way up into the sky. The trees glistened as the early rays crept over them, the radiant shades of the orange and red autumn leaves stealing his breath with their beauty.

In his younger years, before the Dark Lord had returned and while his family had lived in peace, Draco's family had had many picnics under similar autumn trees. The weather in early September was just right, he remembered his mother saying, the wind slightly crisp but not biting and the sun still shining brightly. It was above such trees that his father had taught him to fly – he remembered the fascination and freedom he had felt, sitting with his father on the broom, safe, and zooming high above as his mother waved from below. As the years passed and Draco acquired his own broom, and excellent skills to match, they had continued to fly together – until the Dark Lord returned and changed everything Draco had ever known.

They hadn't been flying for _years_.

The realisation brought tears to Draco's eyes, and he quickly blinked them away, turning from the window. He could not show such weakness. He would be strong – Malfoys did not show weakness. He would not let his father down. Yet, as he buttoned his shirt, he could not suppress the incessant tremor of his hands.

Some in the dormitory were stirring now, a signal that it was time for him to take his leave. He was not hungry – how could he be on a day like this? Resolving to take a walk of the grounds before his first class to help get him through the day, he slipped his bag on his shoulder and set on his way.

* * *

Hermione looked around the Great Hall, but Draco wasn't at breakfast again. Not that that was strange, given that he often skipped meals, but she had been hoping to see him, regardless. Had he left for Azkaban already? She turned to Ron and Harry, who were tucking in eagerly to the pancakes served that morning.

'Hey, did you guys see Draco at all this morning?' Her question was answered with shakes of their heads, and a brief pause as Harry swallowed his mouthful.

'No, he's always up before any of us,' he said. 'He might not be in school today, though, maybe he's gone to Azkaban to say farewell to Lucius?' Ron looked confused momentarily before realising what the date was.

'Yeah, there's no way he'd be in school today,' he agreed. Hermione sighed and bit her lip, nodding. She had been hoping to catch him before he went off, to apologise for her thoughtless remarks the previous night and to check in on him – knowing that his father was about to be executed could not be an easy experience. Harry glanced up at her, setting down his utensils.

'Malfoy wasn't sleeping well last night,' he said tentatively. 'I don't think he's coping with what's been going on since the war as well as he lets on – maybe we should look out for him.' Ron's eyebrows shot up towards the ceiling.

'What,' he spluttered with disbelief. 'Look out for Malfoy?!'

'I agree,' said Hermione, interrupting. 'He hasn't had it easy either, you know.' Ron was silent for a minute, turning that over in his head, then nodding grudgingly.

'Oh alright, I suppose he hasn't been as horrid since we've been back,' he conceded, 'but if he goes back to being a rotten git, I'm going to say I told you so.'

When they finished breakfast, the trio gathered their books and made their way to Transfiguration. Despite her post as Headmistress, Professor McGonagall had retained her position as their teacher in the subject, for which Hermione was glad – the professor was a brilliant teacher. She was already in class when they arrived, and she smiled warmly at them as they entered, gesturing for them to take a seat.

Just as they had predicted, Draco was not in his usual place at the back of the class when they entered. The trio assumed their usual position, the two boys peering over Hermione's meticulous notes as they waited for the lesson to begin, hoping to gain a vague understanding so that they would not be entirely lost in the morning's double period.

As per usual, Professor McGonagall got up to begin the lesson at precisely nine o' clock. As she was about to shut the door, Draco slipped in and into the seat nearest the entrance, still apart from the rest but far from his usual spot.

So he hadn't left yet, after all! Hermione raised her eyebrows silently at the boys, who shrugged in return. Draco sat upright and rigid, his back facing them.

Throughout the lesson, an intriguing theoretical one about advanced conjuring spells, Draco did not touch quill or parchment, sitting rigidly throughout its duration and staring straight ahead. The professor made no comment, continuing as if she had not seen him at all, but Hermione did not miss the lingering glance she had given him, filled with compassion – and perhaps pity.

When the class was dismissed, Draco was the first to leave, his cloak billowing behind him as he vanished out of the door. Hermione, gathering her books, turned to the boys, but Ron was the first to speak.

'Okay, I can see where you two are coming from now,' he agreed quietly, so that the others still in the classroom would not overhear them. 'That was weird, even for Malfoy.'

'He didn't even touch his quill!' Harry said. 'Usually he's scribbling at least as fast as Hermione.' Hermione blushed, opening her mouth to protest, then rolling her eyes.

'I'll skip break and go to Muggle Studies early and see if I can talk to him before class starts,' she decided. The boys agreed that that was a good idea, and so she set off to class. But when she reached the classroom, she saw that Draco was not there.

* * *

Deliberately taking a convoluted route, Draco inhaled deeply as he made his way to the Muggle Studies classroom for his next class, desperately trying to keep his raging emotions under control. He checked the time – it was a few minutes past half past ten. Less than half an hour before – before –

Draco could not complete the thought, the despair and helplessness of his situation crushing the breath from his chest all at once. He paused in the corridor, blessedly empty, and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes and tilting his head to the ceiling.

He knew that he wasn't fine, but what else could he do but try to go about his life as if nothing was wrong? He would not be able to see his father in his last moments, the execution being a closed one and his pleas to the Wizengamot for an exception being ignored, and there was nothing he could do to change that. Despite the offers from the headmistress to let him return to the Manor for the day, or stay in the Eastern Tower and miss classes, he refused. Malfoys do not show weakness – he would not let his father down.

After a few moments, he opened his eyes. He checked the time again – he was going to be late for class. He squared his shoulders and prepared for another lesson – Muggle Studies. Despite all the disgusting stories about Muggles that his father had shared with Draco when he was a little boy, Lucius was surprisingly unresentful when Draco told him that he was planning to take it up.

The war truly had changed them all.

Ducking into the classroom just before the doors shut, just as he had done in Transfiguration, Draco ignored the looks of the class as he walked up and placed his wand into the basket with the others. Alas, this time there was no empty seats in the front for a quick exit; Draco steeled his nerves as the eyes followed him to his usual seat at the back, next to Hermione.

When he raised an eyebrow, the class quickly looked away. All except for the Muggle-born girl seated beside him, that is. Instead, she leaned in closer, whispering to him as Professor Hope began her explanation about their task for that practical lesson – something about working with telephones.

'Hey, how are you doing?' asked Hermione. Draco turned to look at her, mouth pressed into a thin line.

'I'm fine, thank you.' Hermione blinked, then shook her head.

'Sorry, that was a silly question. Obviously you aren't fine, given –'

'I said I was fine,' snapped Draco, his eyes hard. 'Now kindly leave me alone.'

The brunette sat back, surprised at his harsh response. Before she had a chance to say anything else, Professor Hope cleared her throat, beckoning for one of the two students to come forward and collect their set of telephones from the front desk. Hermione quickly rose to do so, blushing at having been caught not paying attention.

Returning to their desk, she set about fiddling with the phones and reading the task sheet, which instructed them on how to make a call – something Hermione could do with ease, having lived as a Muggle for a large portion of her life. Draco, on the other hand – he was still sitting rigidly upright, his eyes not leaving the clock at the front of the room. With each minute, he looked more defeated, his eyes glazed over and his hands clenched – barely holding on. She hated seeing him like this – so near his breaking point.

It was minutes from eleven o' clock now, and as the time of his father's death neared, Draco could not help but close his eyes, his breath quickening. Soon, it would only be him and his mother. He did not even want to think about how she must be feeling – it had been the three of them against the world for so long now. Knowing that Lucius would soon be gone –

Draco felt a hand on his shoulder and his eyes snapped open. Hermione was sitting close to him – too close, if you asked him, he couldn't seem to breathe properly – and was peering at him, brown eyes full of concern. She whispered something under her breath, and Draco's brow furrowed.

'Pardon?' he asked.

'No,' she said, louder this time, and more resolute. 'I won't leave you alone. Let's get out of here.'

She stood, grabbing both her bag and his own, putting them on her shoulder and taking his hand. She led him to the front of the room, Draco thoroughly baffled but in no state to protest as they walked up to the professor, who looked up as they approached.

'Professor Hope,' said Hermione, smiling apologetically. 'Draco isn't feeling very well. May I take him up to see Madam Pomfrey? I'm a Muggle-born, so I can explain the telephone practical to him another day.'

Draco caught on now and squeezed her hand silently – she was trying to save him his dignity. The young professor smiled and nodded silently, clearly knowing about Draco's situation and understanding Hermione's intention. 'Go ahead.'

The two of them left quickly, Hermione taking their wands and Draco glancing at the clock before they did – eleven o' clock.

They barely made it out of the classroom before Draco collapsed, the remnants of his mask crumbling completely as he fell to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably as he mourned the loss of his father.

* * *

 **A/N: This is the first part of the day – the chapter was getting a little long and I like to keep the length relatively consistent: you can look forward for more to come later this weekend (hopefully). Little tidbit of information: I chose 10th September as the date of Lucius' execution so that it would be easy enough for me to remember, as it's my birthday! Thanks for your reviews, favourites, and follows. You guys really are the best!**


	11. Comfort in a Friend

**Disclaimer:** **J.K. Rowlingové patří nádherné kouzelnickém světě a znaky (s výjimkou těch, které jsou původní).**

* * *

 _"There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other." – Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_

* * *

Malfoys do not show weakness.

He tried to stop it, but even as he did, he knew that he was too far gone – he was showing too much, but there was nothing he could do to stop the silent onslaught of tears as fierce despair drowned him. Somehow, he had found himself on the ground, unable to withstand the force of emotion within him once they had left the class. It was too much – he lowered his face to the cool stone floor and let the tears fall, unbidden.

Draco knew that his father had done many unforgivable things – but he was still his father. Though he knew that his family was one that operated differently from what was generally accepted to be the usual, his parents had always been there for him. Not once had his father ever admitted his love for his son straight to his face, but he had always been overly protective and caring in his own roundabout way.

His father was a different man when away from the prying eyes of the world. A man who cared implicitly about his son and his wife, a man who wanted more than to shield and protect them from the cruelties of the world, a man who would do anything for their survival.

Even after he had sworn his full allegiance to the Dark Lord, his father had always put family first. There were moments when his masked demeanour, one that Draco had adopted for himself, had slipped. He had prevented Draco from becoming a Death Eater for as long as they could – the plan before he had been disgraced being that Draco go through his time at Hogwarts, at least, unmarked. And he knew that both his parents – wandless, defenseless – had searched for him high and low during the Final Battle. It had always been family first.

And now, it was just him and his mother. Draco could not imagine a world without his father. Even when he had been at Azkaban, Draco had always known that he would come back for them – that Draco would see him again.

His father was gone.

* * *

Hermione stopped several steps behind him, watching as the icy blonde young man sank to his knees in the corridor and curled in on himself. She hesitated, not sure if she should offer comfort or just stay where she was. She had never seen Malfoy nearly quite so distraught, and frankly had no clue what she should do. After a moment, she walked closer, gingerly, and knelt beside him, staying silent. He seemed to have forgotten about her, absorbed in his own emotion.

She had seen Harry like this once before – after the loss of Sirius – and Ron too – after Fred had died. But she had always known what to do then, she had known what to say. Malfoy was entirely new terrain, and she was lost.

And so she kneeled there silently as he cried, keeping watch over him. A first year peered from around the corner, and, met with her withering glare, backed away silently.

After several minutes, though it seemed infinitely longer, Draco slowly stopped crying. His breathing was still ragged, and he remained silent and in the same position. Hermione left him for a minute more before she tentatively laid a gently hand on his back. She felt him stiffen, almost as if he had forgotten that she was there.

'Draco,' she said quietly. 'Do you want to go somewhere more private?'

The young man was slow to respond, looking up after a long pause and wiping his face, nodding. His face was unnaturally pale, even more so than usual, and the dark circles around his red-rimmed eyes contrasted greatly against it. He took a deep breath and Hermione watched as his grey eyes returned to steel, his mask nowhere near the intensity that she was used to, but on, nonetheless. He began to get up, and she scrambled to her feet as well.

'Eastern Tower?' He shook his head, face impassive. Hermione nodded, understanding – there was the chance that other students might be there, seeing as not many people in their year took Muggle Studies so it was a spare period for most others.

'How about the Room of Requirement?' she asked, and at this Draco turned to her, brows furrowed, and he tilted his head at her inquisitively. 'You know, on the seventh floor – the Room of Hidden things or whatever you want to call it…'

Hermione saw a flash of recognition in his eyes.

'No,' he said, shaking his head decidedly. Hermione remembered their encounter there during the Final Battle and decided not to press the matter.

'How about outside?' she tried, and, finally, Draco nodded. They were silent as they walked down the corridor, and opened the wide doors to the grounds. They walked for a while, with no particular sense of direction. The weather, for once, was ironically pleasant, the sun warm and the skies clear. They stopped by the lake, Draco looking out at the clear water and sighing deeply. Hermione sat a few steps behind him, not looking directly at him as she spoke.

'We – I – didn't expect to you in classes today.' Draco turned and stared back at her, eyes unreadable. His hands were in his pocket, and he had loosened his tie. After a moment, he turned back and answered.

'It was a closed execution.'

'Oh,' she said, frowning sharply. 'I see.'

She knew that the Wizengamot had been executing the Death Eaters in private ceremony, but she had always assumed that they had allowed for family time beforehand. How inhumane! She pushed it aside though, the last thing Draco needed at this particular moment was for her to go on a rant about something that they could not change.

For a long while, Draco stood, silent and still as a statue, seemingly deep in thought. Hermione watched him carefully, picking at the grass around her absentmindedly. All of a sudden, he bent down and picked up a stone, hurling it harshly into the water with all his might.

'Damn it all!'

Hermione jumped at the sudden outburst, leaping up to her feet and going to stand beside him. She could see now that tears were streaming down his cheeks, and as she moved to put her hands on his shoulders, he turned his face away from her.

'I'm not weak,' he whispered. 'Stop it, stop crying. I'm not weak.'

'Hush,' Hermione murmured, tentatively pulling him into a soft embrace. She could feel his shoulders shaking as she held him, his mutterings continuing as she rubbed her hand up and down her back. He was slightly taller than her, but he was leaning over, weakened from the raw emotion.

'It's okay to cry,' she said softly. 'It doesn't mean that you're weak, it just means that you're human. Everybody cries.'

'Malfoys do not show weakness,' he muttered, voice strained. Hermione just shook her head in response.

'Who's here to see it, besides me? It's not like I'm going to tell anyone.'

Her question was met with silence, Draco not pulling away.

If someone had told her the year before that she would be comforting the Ice Prince of Slytherin, she would have called them crazy and laughed in their face. As it was, a little giggle escaped her, and Draco stepped back, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and suspicion.

'Are you laughing at me?' he asked.

'No, of course not!' Hermione said, sobering up quickly, then explaining herself. Thankfully, Draco seemed to see the humour in it too, the corners of his lips twitching slightly in something Hermione could vaguely accept to be a smile. He shook his head.

'It's really not funny,' he said.

'It's really, really not,' she giggled, giving him another hug, and Draco, surprisingly enough, letting her for a while before pulling away once more and sitting down on the grass. He stared out at the lake again, and Hermione joined him on the grass. They sat in companionable silence, Draco's thoughts still faraway but far less despairing than before.

It was ages before either said anything, the silence broken by Hermione checking the time and realising that Muggle Studies had finished, and that their next subject, Ancient Runes, was nearly over too. No use going for that bit of class then, she decided as her stomach let out a small rumble – it was almost lunch. She knew that Draco would avoid the Great Hall, but she wanted to get some food into his system.

'It's nearly one o' clock,' she said. 'Fancy some lunch?'

'I'm not hungry,' he said, predictably.

'Well, you've got to get some food in you,' she insisted. 'We could eat in the kitchens?' He seemed to turn that over in his head, and after a moment more of hesitation, he agreed grudgingly. They stood up and began to walk back to the castle. As he opened the wide doors, Draco stopped in tracks, turning around to regard her abruptly.

'Why are you doing this?'

'Doing what?' Hermione asked, feigning incomprehension.

'Why are you being nice to me? You hate Lucius.'

'Yes,' she said. 'But he was still your father, and you're my friend.'

Draco was silent for a while, then he gave a small smirk.

'We're friends, eh?'

'Yes, I'd like to think so,' confirmed Hermione. 'Now could you please get a move on so that we can get some food, I'm famished!'

Draco quickly opened the door wider, holding it open for her. As they walked to the kitchen, side by side, Draco let himself smile slightly, a real smile. When they reached the kitchens, and Hermione stretched out and tickled the pear of the portrait entrance, she felt a light hand on her shoulder.

'Thank you,' he said, and as she turned to look at him, she saw his grey eyes, usually ice cold, filled with warmth and gratitude.

Times may be rough, the fates had not been kind to him – but he at least he had a friend.

* * *

 **A/N:** **Poor Draco!** **I really shouldn't be writing right now, but the chapter was calling out to me and it had to be done so I could study in peace. Thanks for all the support – your reviews, favourites, and follows are super lovely, and I really really really do appreciate them ever so much!**


	12. Detention and Runes

**Disclaimer:** **Gözəl wizarding dünya və (ayrı orijinal olan qədər) simvol J.K. aid Rowling.**

* * *

 _"Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light."- Steve Kloves, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_

* * *

Hermione hurried to Ancient Runes, eager to see Draco. After leaving him in a considerably better mood yesterday afternoon, she had not seen him during dinner, and she had not seen him that morning either as he had evidently skipped breakfast and was no longer in her Potions class, which had been her only class so far that day.

During dinner the previous night, she had filled Ron and Harry in on what she and Draco had done yesterday, leaving out the details for the sake of the Slytherin's privacy, of course. They had both nodded in sympathy, though she could tell that Ron was still a little skeptical of the Malfoy heir.

Draco was, as she had become accustomed to, already in class when she arrived. He was seated alone, but was not in his usual place at the back of the class – instead, he was seated next to where she usually sat. It was a small class, with them and two other Ravenclaw students being the only eighth year students taking Ancient Runes, so both of them usually sat alone as there were so many choices of seats available. His choice to sit with her was testament to their budding friendship, she thought.

She smiled and went to sit next to him, intending to inquire about how he was feeling that day. But as she did, Professor Babbling entered behind her, cloak sweeping in behind her as she strode into class. As the professor surveyed the room, Hermione knew that she was in trouble. She had half expected it, really, given her truancy the previous day. Professor Babbling was known for giving lenient but frequent detentions, but Hermione had never gotten one from her before. Still, she thought, it was worth it – Draco really had needed the support yesterday.

'Ahh Ms Granger, there you are,' the professor said, peering over her glasses. 'I don't remember seeing you in class yesterday. Detention here, tonight.' Hermione frowned, but merely nodded, looking down at her desk.

Beside her, there was some movement, and Draco lazily raised his hand. Hermione looked at him quizzically, but he refused to meet her eyes. When the professor did not acknowledge his hand, he cleared his throat, and the eyes of the class and the professor turned to look at him.

'Yes, Mr Malfoy?'

'I was not in class either, Professor,' he said, his expression unreadable. 'I believe that means I have a detention tonight as well?'

The professor looked slightly befuddled, and furrowed her eyebrows. 'Ah, Mr Malfoy – I am aware of the circumstances –'

She stopped abruptly as Draco raised an eyebrow and tilted his chin upwards slightly, as if challenging her to pity him. The professor sighed, and relented.

'Yes, Mr Malfoy, I'm sure Ms Granger here will appreciate the company.'

Draco nodded, turning to Hermione with a smirk. She wrinkled her nose, confused.

'What was that all about?' She whispered when the professor began the lecture about translating Naledi Dwarf Runes. He responded with another smirk.

'I hate being pitied.'

Hermione rolled her eyes at him before turning her attention to the lesson, a small smile gracing her face.

* * *

Draco sighed as he levitated some of his clothes into his trunk. Most of the folded garments were black and formal, perfect for what he intended to do that weekend. He would be returning to the Manor to bury his father's body, and to discuss matters of the dwindled Malfoy estate with the family lawyers. Narcissa being in Azkaban, he was the one who had to handle all of the administrative details now. But he would be fine – after all, he had spent many an afternoon when he was younger listening in on meetings, his father giving him a light reprimand whenever he was distracted or his mind wandered. That training would be useful, now.

It was dinner time now, and most of the boys in the dormitory were leaving for the Great Hall. Draco furrowed his eyebrows as he felt someone watching him, and turned around. It was Potter, standing there like a fool, hesitating at the door, with Weasley hovering at his shoulder. What in heaven's name did they want? He wasn't in the mood to deal with this at the moment.

'Can I help you, Potter?' he scowled, raising an eyebrow. The black-haired boy simply gaped at him for a moment, as if surprised that he was being addressed, then flushed slightly, his cheeks colouring.

'Oh, errrr,' Harry said, 'we were wondering if you'd like to join us for dinner? I mean, you hardly ever go down to eat, so we thought maybe you needed someone to sit with –'

'Are you out of your bloody mind?' replied Draco, surprised more than anything. He couldn't believe his ears. He was half sure that the Golden Boy had gone mental – and Ron looked like he might agree with him on that.

'Uhh, alright then,' stuttered Harry, always the very picture of eloquence. 'We'll see you around?'

Draco raised an eyebrow in disbelief at the Gryffindor's apparent lack of brain. 'Yes, Potter, that's very likely, considering that we attend the same school.'

Harry looked quite flustered, then was dragged out by his ginger side-kick, leaving Draco in blessed peace. He furrowed his eyebrows, confused, then shrugged and resumed packing.

As the clock neared seven, Draco closed his trunk and headed for the kitchens. He had been avoiding the Great Hall – not because he was not hungry, but because the bustle was often too much stimulation for him to deal with. And, if he was honest with himself, it probably had something to do with his lack of friends at the Slytherin table.

Being the only Slytherin in eighth year to come back to school had been hard, but most of his peers were either dead, in jail, or had graduated already, having been treated well enough by the Death Eaters in Hogwarts during their final year. But he had a friend now, Hermione Granger, someone who had been nice and actually looked out for him – a refreshing change from what he was used to!

The House-Elves had come to expect him, and as he climbed through the portrait hole of the kitchens, he found that they had made him a sandwich, and placed it by the entrance. They were busy cooking and cleaning for the Great Hall, though, so he tried not to bother them as he took it.

'Thank you,' he said quietly, and evidently they heard him, because they all looked up with a smile. Some of them had served him in the Manor in previous years – he had had to get some employed elsewhere, keeping only a couple to take care of and manage the rooms and the vast grounds.

Sandwich in hand, he made his way to the Ancient Runes classroom for detention, something he had pretty much demanded in a moment that had been a mixture of defiance and madness, to accompany Granger. Perhaps, he was getting soft, he thought, or senile. No, too young for that yet – though he sometimes felt peculiarly old.

'Hey, Draco!' Hermione called, coming up from behind him. He slowed to wait for her, quickly swallowing the last bite of his sandwich and dusting the crumbs off of his hands on his pants.

'Hello,' he said, smiling slightly.

'I heard from Ron that you had a little chat with Harry and him!' Draco shrugged, smirking a bit.

'It confuses me how Potter managed to defeat the Dark Lord, sometimes,' he joked lightly, and Hermione snorted, amused.

'He's more clever than he seems,' she said, but her tone was more playful than aggressively defensive. They walked into the classroom together, where Professor Babbling was waiting for them.

'Ahh, good, you two are here,' she said, looking up as they entered. 'I'll have you both mark third year essays, according to this criteria here. I will be in my office if you need me.' She passed them both a criteria sheet, and then gestured to two neat piles of parchment on the front desks, next to two quills and red ink.

'Have fun!' she said brightly, turning and walking back into her adjacent office.

The two students took a seat and glanced over the criteria sheet. Draco looked over the first essay, and groaned.

'I got Hufflepuff,' he said, 'this is going to be torture.'

Hermione laughed. 'Well, I got Ravenclaw, so they might actually make sense!'

'Runes are called Ancient Runes because they are very old, and were probably discovered by some architect – I think he meant archeologist there – called Mr Rune,' Draco read aloud as he squinted over the first essay, furrowing his eyebrows. 'What is this? I doubt I was ever this foolish in third year.'

Hermione shot him a look and giggled. 'Well, actually –'

'Okay, fine,' he cut her off, the corners of his mouth turning up in amusement. 'So maybe I was – but not in my academic work, at least!'

They marked in relative quiet for a while, the only sound being Draco's grunts of disbelief and frustration. After a while, Hermione broke the silence.

'So, how are you holding up?' Draco seemed to pause and consider her question, then responded with a shrug as he continued marking.

'Alright, I suppose,' he replied. 'I'm returning to the Manor this weekend for the burial.'

'Oh,' she said, unsure of how to reply. 'Hang in there.'

Draco smirked at her in reply, causing her cheeks to colour. Seeing this, he smiled in earnest, then looked down again.

'Thank you,' he said. 'Really, thanks.'

Hermione smiled, and they lapsed into silence once again. Draco finished his pile much faster than she did, and spent the remaining time translating one of his comments on a student's essay into the Naledic Dwarf Runes they had been introduced to in class earlier that day, much to the amusement of Hermione.

When she finished, Hermione looked at the grades they had both given them, and was shocked to find that Draco had given most of the students a 'Troll', with the exception of one 'Exceeds Expectations'.

'There wasn't much expectation to exceed,' he said as a way of explanation.

'You're such a harsh marker!' she said, shaking her head. 'Far too harsh! Bump up their grades up by two so that they more or less match mine.'

'Why don't you bring yours down by two instead?' he asked, smirking again.

'Because we don't want them to give up on Ancient Runes just yet,' she retorted, laughing. 'Do it!'

To her surprise, he did as she said, though very reluctantly. Hermione nodded in approval, smiling, and patted him on the shoulder lightly as she stood. As she went to tell Professor Babbling that they were done, he smiled to himself. Perhaps he was getting a little soft, but perhaps that wasn't an entirely bad thing.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry for the delay in the update – the exams are getting nearer and nearer, and the workload has really taken its toll on my ability and time to be creative – plus I kept getting called away from writing by my adorable cat. That said, thank you again for all the reviews, favourites and follows – they mean so much to me and remind me that my life should be more than just boring and stressful academic work!**


	13. Games of Chess

**Disclaimer: Nu wizarding dunya éndah jeung aksara (sajaba ti eta anu asli) milik J.K. Rowling.**

* * *

 _"That's Wizard's Chess!" – Steve Kloves, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_

* * *

It was nearly eight o' clock that Sunday evening when the fireplace in Professor McGonagall's office roared to life with emerald green flames. Draco stepped out of the ashes and dusted himself off lightly, his wand out and his trunk being levitated and following closely behind him. The headmistress turned around and smiled at him, regarding his tired eyes and weary face.

'Thank you,' he said, a forced smile on his face. He really was not in the mood to have a conversation with her, but seeing as this was the only fireplace connected to the Floo network at Hogwarts, it seemed appropriate that he be appreciative to her for letting him use it.

'That's quite all right,' the headmistress replied. 'How as your visit home?'

'It was fine, ma'am.'

'Have you eaten?'

'Yes, ma'am,' he replied. The two remaining House-Elves at the Manor had been extremely pleased to see him, and far less pleased to see that he had lost some weight since going back to school – they had not stopped trying to feed him from the moment he had arrived early on Saturday morning.

Satisfied with his response, the cat-like lady nodded and resumed her work, which Draco took as a signal of his dismissal. He turned and exited the office, still levitating his trunk, though it was in front of him now, heading for the Eastern Tower.

It had been a long and tiring weekend, one filled with duties he had never thought that he would have to carry out for a long time more – that was, before the war. His father's burial had not been too grim – with the body enclosed in a casket and the cemetery already prepared for the ceremony, Draco had merely watched as the funeral conductor levitated the coffin in and that was that. He had not cried – not in front of the small gathering of people who still dared to offer their condolences despite the circumstances of Lucius' death, at least. But he did later on, in the privacy of his room.

The rest of the weekend had been made up of him writing to his mother, then meeting with the family lawyers to go over his father's last will and testament, as well as the business of the Malfoy estate. This meeting merely confirmed what Draco had already suspected – the Malfoy fortune was in shambles, and it would only get worse as the reparations for the war were paid. This was something that he would inevitable have to deal with – but, for now, all Draco could think to do was rest.

He muttered the password, _Salve_ , and the large brown door that led to the common room disappeared. The warmth was a welcome change from the cool marble corridors, which were getting increasingly cold at night as it well and truly became autumn.

He stepped into the room and levitated his trunk to the corner of the common room, not quite wanting to head up to the dormitories to go to bed just yet. He put away his wand and rubbed his face wearily, plopping himself down on what he had previously determined to be the most comfortable armchair there in a fashion that was definitely _not_ Malfoy-esque.

'Hello,' a familiar voice said, startling him and causing him to jump, eyes flying open and heart racing. He whipped his head towards the source - Hermione was sitting curled up on the sofa across from him, a weathered book in her hands, almost camouflaged amongst the outrageous number of pillows that surrounded her. 'You're back!'

Draco sighed and leaned back again, settling into his own pillows. 'Yes, indeed I am.'

'How was it?' To that, Draco merely shrugged, not quite knowing what to say.

'What are you reading?' he asked, instead, gesturing to the worn hardcover book that she was holding. 'I thought you of all people would be a stickler for book care.'

Hermione blushed, then closed and held up her book so that he could see the title – it was her old favourite, _Hogwarts: A History_. 'It's hard to take care of a book when you're on the run from an evil maniac who is determined to rule the world,' she joked. Draco smirked at that.

'Well, only you would bring a book on a perilous journey,' he pointed out jokingly, causing her to smile and laugh. 'But why that book? I read it before I came here, and I honestly couldn't find any reason to read it again.'

'It's kind of like a security blanket for me. It probably wasn't too unusual for you, since you grew up with magic, but for me, it was one of the most amazing things I had ever read,' admitted Hermione. Then she brightened, and added, 'I'm so glad to have found someone else who has read it! The boys always call me crazy when I try and convince them to.'

'I don't blame them,' Draco joked, smiling. 'Where are your two little friends, anyway?'

'At the Quidditch pitch with Ginny,' she said. 'I thought they'd be back by now, though, since it's gotten rather dark outside.'

'Flying at night is actually rather enjoyable,' replied Draco, a knowing smile on his face. He did miss flying. 'But the wind is picking up, so they'll probably be back soon.' He got up to go to the dormitory, intending to leave her to read in peace, but she stopped him.

'Would you fancy a game of Wizard's Chess?' she asked, sitting up and pointing to the chessboard on the coffee table between them. 'I'm trying to train up so that I can beat Ron, but I got too bored playing myself.'

Draco hesitated, still rather tired, but then smiled and agreed. Wizard's Chess had been his favourite game as a child – something he could play quite well after challenging his father on many slow Saturday afternoons. He had not played for a while now, though, which was understandable, given the events of the previous few years.

With a sweep of her wand, Hermione set the chess set in order and they began to play. Draco took white, upon her insistence, and she discovered that he was actually very good – he beat her with his third move.

'I always fall for that trick,' she grumbled, setting the pieces up again with another wave of her wand. 'Ron does that too, but I almost always forget about it.'

Draco smiled, and they played through a few more short games. He did not go easy on her, but he did, however, stop and explain his strategies when she asked how he had planned his moves. He was surprised that she was practicing with the intention to beat Weasley – she claimed that he was the reigning champion of Wizard's Chess in their little trio, but how hard could it be to beat that fool, really?

As Draco announced 'Checkmate' yet again, the door to the Eastern Tower disappeared momentarily, and the tall young man with windswept ginger hair stepped in. He spotted Hermione immediately and sauntered over, chucking his broom on the couch that she had abandoned.

'Harry went off to snog my dear little sister, so I thought I'd come back first. You're still trying to beat me, eh?' Weasley laughed smugly, then turned to Hermione's opponent, and wrinkled his nose. 'Why on earth are you practicing with _Malfoy_?'

Draco raised an eyebrow in response, but Hermione replied before he could say anything.

'I asked him if he wanted to play,' she said, firmly and brightly. 'And, as I've discovered, Draco's very good – perhaps even a little better than you are!'

'What, this slimy git?' Hermione cleared her throat, and Ron looked thoroughly chided. He sat beside her, opposite the chess board from Draco, and then turned his lips up suddenly.

'Well then, how about a game?' he challenged, the smile not quite reaching his eyes. He took out his wand and reset the board, then turned it so that he was in possession of the white pieces. 'I'll go first.'

Draco shrugged and nodded, curiousity getting the best of him. A bumbling fool like Weasley, how good could he possibly be?

His question was soon answered as they played on – Ron was at least as good as he was. Draco squared his shoulders as he plotted his moves and concentrated, determined to beat the Gryffindor.

'Knight to H3.' Draco took Ron's Queen.

On the other side of the board, Ron was quickly realising the same – Draco was much better than he had anticipated. A welcome change, really, a nice challenge.

'Rook to A5.' Ron took one of Draco's Bishops.

Hermione shook her head but smiled as she watched the two boys staring at the board, the common room totally silent between their moves. The concentration was practically palpable, and the game was progressing rapidly and decisively. It was much more interesting than Ron played with either her or Harry – he usually beat them before they even realised their mistakes. But with Draco, it looked like Ron had met an equal match. They played on for a while longer, and as the pieces left the board and there were only a few more left, the game slowed.

'Bishop to B8,' said Draco. Ron paused, furrowing his eyes at the board.

'Is that –,' Hermione started.

'Yes,' said Draco, smiling slightly. 'It seems that we have reached an impasse.'

Ron blinked, then looked up, staring at Draco for a second. Then, his face broke into a wide smile, a real one, this time, and he cheered.

'I haven't had a stalemate in years!' He reached out his hand, offering it to Draco, who hesitated, then took and shook it.

'Fair game, Weasley,' he said. 'You play well.'

'Thanks,' he said, then added after a pause. 'You know, you're not half bad, yourself.'

And so, when Harry returned to the Eastern Tower, just past midnight – for he and Ginny had lost track of time – he found the three of them still there, laughing together as friends as the ginger and the blonde young men tried to teach Hermione complex strategies for Wizard's Chess.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you all so much for all of your support – your reviews, favourites, and follows, especially! You guys have motivated me to come this far – this is the longest I've ever written for one story!**

 **However, as much as it pains me, I must declare a hiatus from now until the middle of November (though I might slip up and post an update if I give up on my N.E.W.T.s temporarily in a fit of stress and madness, as I did today after the practice exams). Mid-November is when my exams finally finish and I am an official high school graduate – I beg you, please don't give up on me and this story! I promise that I'll keep writing. I can't stop the story here, anyway, I have great plans for this plot! Stay awesome.**


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